


More Than You Know

by captainmcspirk



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1940s, Artist Steve Rogers, Catholic Steve Rogers, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Religious Guilt, they're so gay for each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainmcspirk/pseuds/captainmcspirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is always in a fight, and Bucky Barnes is always there to piece him back together. Through thick and thin, James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers have each other's backs.<br/>From battling inner demons, to questioning faith, this is the story of how Steve and Bucky come to be.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Got it Bad (and That Ain't Good)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a song. Each chapter has a song that's relevant to the story line. (Not all songs are timeline compliant.)  
> Note, my actual timeline may also not be in line with the MCU verse timeline or the comics. I'm just kind of going based on my own timeline.

Brooklyn November, 1940

  For Steve, it was like any other day, walking home from his part time job at the small grocery store in Brooklyn to his shabby apartment in the dark. It was a cold night, Steve shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked with his head down, determined to get home to his slightly warm bed. On his trek home, he heard a scream from a nearby alleyway, high-pitched and scared. He glanced around and saw no cops or anyone else for that matter. Steve sprinted to the alleyway, trying hard not to let his asthma get the best of him, and saw a large man straddling a woman who looked terrified. The man’s back was to Steve, so he made a move and lunged at the attacker.

  “What the _fuck?!_ ” With Steve being so frail, he didn’t manage to budge the larger man off of the woman, but it caused him to whip around and lay a blow right to Steve’s jaw. Steve flung back and scrambled to his feet, readying his fists to fight the attacker. The man stood and laughed, his jowls shaking with the movement. “You really got some guts, kid. I don’t wanna hurt ‘ya, so why don’t you run along, and you’ll stay in one piece?”

  Steve shook his head, fists shaking in the cold, but held high. The guy chuckles, reals his arm back and lands a punch right to Steve’s nose. In the frigid cold, Steve could feel the warm blood drip from his nose as he stumbled backwards onto the icy ground. The perpetrator continues to lay blows to Steve, but he just took every hit. Through his peripherals, Steve saw the girl grab her bag from the ground and run the opposite way.‘Maybe she’ll get help’ he kept thinking to himself, but he knew it was pointless and that the girl was going to run home and not stop until her door was locked behind her.

“You've made a huge mistake, pal.” A gruff voice spoke from somewhere behind him. His ears were ringing and he tasted only blood. He was unaware of what was happening, until the voice spoke again and gently lifted him to his feet. “Hey, Steve. Can you walk? We gotta get you outta here.” The small boy blinked and his vision cleared. In front of him was none other than his best pal, Bucky Barnes. He tried to smile, but Bucky was trying to speak to him. “...Gotta go, Stevie.” Bucky helped Steve to his feet, took off a glove, slung his arm around his shoulders, and handed his beaten friend the glove to hold to his nose to cease the bleeding. Steve risked a look behind him and saw his attacker on the ground, face scrunched up in pain. Bucky helped Steve to his apartment, sat him down on the toilet in the bathroom, and grabbed various bottles from the medicine cabinet. Steve sat with his head held back, gazing at the dimly lit ceiling.

  Bucky turned to his friend, gave a slight smile, removed the glove and wiped his face gently with a wet washcloth to get the blood off. All around Steve’s nose was purple and swollen, and his right eye was black and puffy. “A busted lip, bruised collarbone, black eye, and slightly broken nose. Jesus, Steve. How did you get into a fight with that meathead?”

  Steve swallowed slowly and spoke soft, “There was...I heard a scream. There was a girl...he was...on top of her. I had to do something, Buck.” His brunette friend put a soft hand on his shoulder, and smiled warmly. “Well, I’m sure that girl was mighty grateful. Now, let’s get you in bed. You need warmth and sleep. I’ll get the kettle on. Can you make it to your room?”

 “Yes, I can manage.” Bucky headed towards the tiny kitchen to make some tea while Steve hobbled to his quaint, dark room. He unbuttoned his shirt, unclasped his suspenders, and peeled off his clothes before heading to his simply stocked closet to put on his dingy pajamas. Every move he made hurt his muscles, and his head was pounding. Steve turned on his side table lamp, and climbed into bed, waiting patiently for Bucky. His Bucky, his best friend, always looking out for him. They met years ago, as kids, before Steve’s mom died from pneumonia. Bucky was there for him through school bullies, his mother’s funeral, helping him get an affordable place to live and a job to pay the rent. He always makes sure Steve has food, and keeps him company. No one could be more grateful for a friend than Steve is. Speaking of Bucky, he came through the doorway with a steaming mug and an ice pack.He felt the weight of his bed sink as Bucky sat down and passed him the mug, and placed the ice pack on his swollen face.

“I know it’s cold, but I’m hopin’ the tea keeps you warm cus we gotta get the swelling down.”

  Steve smiled as wide as he could. “Thanks, Buck. You didn’t have to do all this.”

  His dark-haired friend chuckled, jiggling the ice in the pack on Steve’s pale face. “Bah! Like hell I didn’t. I’m not goin’ to leave you in pain. Now, drink.” Steve drank his tea and sat in silence with Bucky. His heart raced with the motion of Bucky holding an ice pack to his face, and the warmth of his body next to his, and the subtle, melodious sound of his breath. The thought of Bucky leaving once the tea was gone, and the swelling went down made Steve feel alone and sad, but he knew his friend needed to go home. Besides, he helped out so much already, he wouldn’t ask him for another favor...even if it was really warm with Bucky by his side. Lost in his thoughts, Steve didn’t realize the ice pack was removed until Bucky began to get up from the side of the bed. “Yep, looks like the swelling has gone done a lot, pal. Finished?” Steve gave him the empty mug of tea, and mourned the loss of Bucky’s warmth while he was in the kitchen. A few minutes later, his friend returned to his spot on the edge of the bed, and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, Steve. I’m goin’ to head out if you don’t need anything else.”

  Every part of Steve desired for Bucky to stay and keep him warm for the night, but he knew he couldn’t stay. “I think I’m okay, Bucky. Thank you so much.”

  Bucky clapped his fragile friend gently on the shoulder, baring a grin, and stood up. “No more fights this week, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow on the way to work.” Steve nodded as the light was shut off, and the sound of Bucky’s footsteps declined. Despite it being late, Steve lay awake with his thoughts. For a while now, Steve has been picking at his brain to understand his feelings for Bucky because his feelings for his friend were _different._ Then again, he didn’t have any other friendships to compare his feelings to. What if this were normal? No, Steve may be small and fragile, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew the way he felt about Buck was not normal. He thought of his radiant warmth, his brown hair, and silvery green eyes... _Stop. You can’t think about your best friend that way. It’s wrong, it’s sinful._ Hot tears began to roll down his cheeks as guilt washed over him. He laid there for God knows how long just crying that he was hardly aware of the knock at his bedroom door. “Steve? We got a bad snow storm out there tonight. Ain’t no walking in it. Do you mind if I crash here tonight?” The door creaked open, and Bucky’s head peaked in. “Steve?” Steve wiped his face in the dark and trusted his voice to not give away he was crying. “Sure, Buck. Wouldn’t want you out there dying of frostbite on me.” His voice sounded hoarse, and immediately Buck knew something was wrong. He came over and reached for the light, but was stopped. “No, please don’t turn the light on.”

“Is everything okay? Are you in pain?” The worry in his friend’s voice comforted him slightly, but he wouldn’t dare tell him what the problem was.

“I’m fine. Head hurts, and I’m cold.” Even in the dark, Steve could tell that Bucky didn’t believe him, so he gave in. “Actually, I’m just a little shaken up, but the other two are true as well.”

“Scoot.” Bucky said, kicking his shoes off and sliding in bed next to Steve. This action made him want to scream, and his heart began to race even faster. The warmth returned and Steve felt so comfortable. He and Buck hadn’t shared a bed since they were younger, because it was acceptable as kids, but it felt so much _better_ as adults. Sure the bed wasn’t very large, but if they laid on their sides, it was a tight fit. Steve’s whole body became warm with Bucky’s presence--both his body heat, and the heat of Steve’s body rising with the notion of his best friend lying in bed next to him. “Steve?”

“Hmm?” He could sense Bucky was worried and he was hoping and praying he wouldn’t pry.

“You’re my best pal.”

  Steve blushed in the dark, and returned the sentiment. “You’re mine, too, Buck. Goodnight.” Steve pulled the covers up over his head, and squeezed his eyes shut, begging for sleep, so he didn’t have a panic attack that _Bucky was in his bed._ Soon he heard the gentle breathing of his friend behind him, which calmed him to sleep as well.

* * *

 

  Steve awoke with the sun peaking through his window, shining right onto his face. He wondered what time it was, and his stomach growled noisily. Suddenly he was aware of the presence behind him... _holding him?_ He lifted the blanket and saw Bucky’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding him flush to his chest. Steve’s heart began to race again and thoughts flooded his brain. Was this just something he did in his sleep? What does this mean? Is it a platonic thing? These thoughts kept rushing through his head until he heard Bucky mumble something. “G’morning.” Bucky gave Steve a little squeeze before releasing him and sitting up. “Sorry...I-uh...I didn’t know that I did that in my sleep.”

“No, i-it’s okay, Buck. You didn’t know what you were doin’.” Bucky looked at his friend’s bruised face and frowned. His heart felt heavy, like Bucky could feel every blow that was landed on his friend’s fragile, pale body. Steve’s stomach growled again, louder this time. Bucky chuckled and grinned, “Breakfast?” Steve nodded and they both got up, Bucky heading to the kitchen and Steve to the bathroom.

  While Steve relieved his bladder, he stood and tried to gather his rushing thoughts. What if his friend felt the same way he did? Could it ever work? No one could know. Bullshit, Bucky was a ladies man through and through. There’s no way in hell he could ever have feelings for his puny best friend. That is all he will ever be: Bucky Barnes’ Best Pal.

  The smell of food brought Steve back to his senses. He washed his hands and trudged to the living room. Bucky’s back was to him, cooking what smelled like eggs in the kitchen. Steve turned on the tiny radio in the corner of the room to his favorite station. A lush jazz song filled the air, and they listened in silence: Bucky cooking breakfast, and Steve sitting on the couch, eyes closed, head back. It wasn't until a radio announcer’s voice interrupted that Steve opened his eyes. “...Upper and lower Brooklyn areas were heavily affected by the storm last night. Roads are closed and are deemed too dangerous to trek. Authorities advise to remain indoors and…”

“Guess we’re stuck inside, eh pal?” Bucky was standing near Steve, a plate of eggs in one hand, and a mug of coffee in the other (black, two sugars just like Steve liked it). Steve smiled and accepted the food and coffee while his dark-haired friend poured some coffee for himself and plopped down next to Steve on the tattered love seat.

“I guess so.” They sipped their coffee and talked over eggs, enjoying each other’s company, Steve once again basking in the warmth that radiated from his friend’s body. Once breakfast was consumed, Steve took his dishes to the sink and began to wash them. He never complained about dishes because his mom made such delicious food, he could never make her do the cleaning. The simple chore tugged at Steve’s heart strings, remembering his mother solemnly, but he hardly had the time to become sad because Bucky walked up beside him and began drying the chipped dishes once they were clean. “Buck, you don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t...I want to.”  

“So, what should we do after this? I mean, there isn't much to do…” His friend chuckled, placing the last dish into the cabinet. Steve watched Bucky all the way to the bookshelf where he grabbed Steve’s journal, and dropped to the ground.”Draw something for me.” Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He swallowed hard and dried his hands, making his way to a spot on the floor across from Bucky. The sun peaked through the window in his meager apartment and shined so perfectly on his friend’s face, outlining his jaw and emphasizing his 5 o’clock shadow. Steve picked up a pencil and put it to paper. The rest came easily because he had the best model sitting inches away from him. He paid too much attention to his pink, glistening lips, wondering what it would be like to feel them against his... _STOP._

  Bucky watched in amazement at how quickly and intently Steve worked on his artwork. The kid was so focused, looking up every now and then to glance at Bucky, accidentally making eye contact every time. Bucky’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird, and his palms became clammy, but his gaze never left Steve until he was done. Finally, the blond looked up, the light defining the injuries from the night before. Seeing Steve so beat up made Bucky’s blood boil. He wanted to enact revenge on anyone who hurt his Steve, and he wanted to take care of him forever.

“I’m finished.” Steve faced the floor, embarrassed by what Bucky might think, and slid the journal across the grey carpet. He waited for a bad reaction, but was greeted with a fascinated, “Wow…” His head snapped up, the look of awe on Buck’s face making his heart stop. “Wow, Steve...this is...so amazing.”

“You actually think so? I get kind of embarrassed…”

“No! No. No need to be embarrassed, Stevie. This is so good. You’re very talented. Can I keep it?” Steve blushed harder than he ever had and gave his friend a nod. Bucky tore it out gently, and placed it in his back pocket. He reached behind him to turn the volume back on the radio, and the sound of Peggy Lee’s voice filled the space around them.

_“My baby ever treats me sweet and gentle the way he should;_

_I got it bad and that ain't good!_

_My poor heart is sentimental not made of wood_

_I got it bad and that ain't good!_

_But when the weekend's over and Monday rolls aroun'_

_I end up like I start out just cryin' my heart out_

_He don't love me like I love him nobody could_

_I got it bad and that ain't good!”_

  Steve’s heartbeat picked up, and the tell-tale signs of a panic attack were forming. He jumped up from his spot on the floor and ran to his room. He could faintly hear Bucky calling after him, worry in his voice, but Steve was too busy focusing on his breathing. Hot tears streamed down his face, his chest ached, and his whole body shook. He felt dizzy and nauseous and hoped to God Bucky would leave him alone because that is the last thing he needed at that moment. It was the song that did it. He had an epiphany whilst listening to the words of the song, realizing his true feelings for Bucky, the ones that craved his warmth, went much deeper than friendship. _I’m in love with Bucky Barnes. Oh, God._

  With that thought, in came the man himself. He didn’t knock, he only rushed in to Steve’s side to sit in front of him on the floor, a look of shock on his face. Steve’s head was in his hands, back against the wall when Bucky spoke, “Stevie, what’s wrong? You gotta breathe, okay?” He placed his hand on the smaller’s shoulder, causing him to jerk away, and snap his head up. His eyes were red, face wet from tears, breathing uneven, still shaking.

“Please--don’t.” Bucky slowly dropped his hand, and sat back on his heels, searching for something to help. He turned around and yanked the duvet off of the bed and wrapped it around him, hoping to bring his friend some comfort. “Buck--” Instead of speaking, he focused on his breathing, familiar with evening his breathe because of his asthma. He took deep breaths, letting them out slowly, making sure to sit up straight. Bucky noticed his actions, and raced to the kitchen to make another cup of coffee. Caffeine was suggested by Steve’s doctor to help open the airways, and it was proven to have helped. Steve began to calm down once Bucky left the room, and when he came back with coffee, he drank it all with no words to the man in front of him.

  Finally, he lowered the mug from his mouth and chanced a look at Bucky. He could see that he was nervous and very concerned, and was aching to say something. “All right?”

  Steve nodded, wiped his face, and attempted to stand, but his body was still experiencing tremors, making it difficult to do anything but stay on the floor. The two were there in silence, waiting patiently for one to have the courage to speak up,hoping it was the other. Finally, Steve whispered, “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from…”

“No, I thought it was me. I’m sorry.” Little did he know, it was him, but Steve would never admit that to him, knowing it would mean he would have to explain why, and he _absolutely_ could not do that. Bucky got up, offering a hand to his friend, who took it with much hesitation, and he took him into a hug. Steve couldn’t believe what was happening or why, but in that moment he decided to hug him back, taking in the scent that was his Bucky. He wrapped his arms around him, burying his head into his chest, and he heard Bucky’s irregular heartbeat. Before he could process what that meant, Bucky backed away, turned around swiftly, wiping his face, and spoke softly, “I think I’m goin’ to head home.”

“What? You can’t be serious! It’s freezing out there, Buck Just--stay until it calms down--”

Bucky sighed heavily, risking a glance at Steve before he walked out of the front door into the frigid morning air.


	2. I Wish I Didn't Love You So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve attempts to deal with his feelings, Bucky returns, and a decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning, mentions of homophobia due to religion. Steve consults the Bible for his predicament. Bucky thinks homophobic thoughts. In other words, they're scared of being Gay™  
> The songs used in this fic are here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuactAjlacM "Oh, Johnny" by The Andrew Sisters  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xd6Ph2Ad9UI "I Wish I Didn't Love You So" by Betty Hutton

November 1940

As much as Steve wanted to follow Bucky, there was no way in Hell he would have survived that weather, so he sat around and waited all day for him to return. After the initial shock of his friend’s abrupt departure, Steve decided to take a shower to clear his mind. He undressed carefully, placing his clothes on the towel rack, and turned on the shower. The water was warm because he couldn’t afford the luxury of hot water. He stepped into the shower, letting the water rush down his scrawny body, thinking of nothing but Bucky. He was worried sick about him, but he was more preoccupied with how he acted before he ran out. Of course, Bucky was never a master as approaching his feelings, but running off like that? He looked like he was terrified, and wouldn’t come back. Steve’s heart clenched at the thought of not seeing Bucky again. For more than ten years Bucky has been in his life and after losing his mom, he fears he would lose the will to live if Bucky left.  And sure, he’s hugged Bucky before--they’re friends, and friends hug, but that one was  _ different. _ It was as if Bucky was trying to say something to him with that hug that he couldn’t with his words.  _ Could it be..?  _ Steve knew it could never be true, but his heart wished more than anything that there could be a possibility that he felt the same way. His stomach felt hollow and his heart yearned for a miracle.

With the thought of miracles, Steve left the shower and redressed into his pajamas because he couldn’t leave his house anyway. He went to his bookshelf and pulled out his tattered Bible with his mother’s rosary stuck between the pages. He knew his thoughts were impure and he could never act on his love for his best friend, so he recited his Hail Mary’s in hopes of forgiveness. Tears trickled down his face--this felt wrong. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was just a feeling, it was just love. Isn’t that what God wanted for everyone? To love thy neighbor? His head was throbbing and his mind was being pulled apart into two directions: his love for Bucky, and his guilt. Steve’s stomach was in knots, his head was spinning, and he experienced the all-too-familiar feeling of needing to puke. He rose to his feet and sprinted to the toilet, emptying the breakfast from a few hours ago, his body trembling. 

After puking, he continued to sob, sitting on the ground in the bathroom for an hour until no more tears could fall and he felt light-headed. Normally, when Steve was sick like this, Bucky would be there to bring him a damp cloth for his face, or rub his back until he felt better. He supposed he should get accustomed to him not being there anymore. Eventually, with much trial and error, Steve was able to get himself off of the ground and into his bed. He didn’t care what time it was, he only cared about sleeping because he felt awful in every sense of the word. He didn’t realize how exhausted he was until he turned over on his side, and fell fast asleep under the comfort of his tattered quilt.

* * *

 

Bucky hadn’t the faintest idea what came over him back at Steve’s place, but it scared the shit out of him. He wanted to hold Steve forever, rub circles into his back, and kiss his head, but that was  _ wrong.  _ So wrong! He ran out of Steve’s with no thought of where he was going--he just ran as fast as his legs could take him. The snow was falling, and covering the ground in thick layers, making it very difficult to get around, and it was almost impossible to see anything. Bucky knew he wasn’t going to get very far in this God forsaken weather, but luckily there was a bar nearby that was open. He entered the warm bar, locking the chill outside behind him. The man behind the bar gave him an incredulous look--like he didn’t expect to have any customers despite his establishment being open. He was wiping down the bar when Bucky entered, covered in snow and shivering. “Damn, kid! What ya’ doin’ out in this weather? You got a death wish?” The chubby barman watched Bucky as he made his way to the bar stool to sit down with a long sigh.

“Jus’ give me somethin’ strong, please.” Bucky took out some loose change from his pocket and slammed it down on the counter. The barman raised an eyebrow and turned around to pour Bucky a drink. 

“So, what you doing out here, kid? And this early?” The man made conversation over his shoulder, and Bucky just wanted time to  _ think.  _ He didn’t want to talk, he wanted to  _ drink  _ himself into a stupor. Besides, it wasn’t  _ that  _ early. It just hit one in the afternoon. 

“My girl left me.” Bucky lied quickly and smoothly knowing full well he couldn’t tell him the  _ real  _ reason. That he thought he was having feelings for his  _ best friend.  _ Feelings that a man should only have towards a dame. The man nodded with sympathy, placing Bucky’s drink in front of him, who drank it with a sense of urgency. He wished to drown his thoughts with liquor, to erase any thought of his best friend and how he wants to kiss his pink lips, and run his hands through his golden hair and-- _ NO. You can’t think of him like that. It’s wrong, it’s disgusting, it feels so right... _ Bucky waved for another drink, opting to use his paycheck to get himself plastered. 

Four drinks of scotch, or brandy, or whatever he was drinking, later, Bucky felt great. He didn’t have a care in the world, and couldn’t even figure out why he was upset in the first place. He wanted to dance and laugh, and he wanted to be with Steve.  _ Steve.  _ Bucky stood up with some difficulty, and staggered to the door. The storm had calmed down considerably, but it was even harder to walk in the snow now that he was drunk. He didn’t care, he wanted to see Steve, so he slowly found his way to Steve’s tiny apartment.

* * *

 

Steve was tossing and turning in his small cot, shivering from the cold when he heard his front door open and slam shut. Steve jumped up, fearing a break in. He’d put up a fight, but there’s no way he would win, if the previous night had proven anything. Steve’s heart pounded in his chest as he made his way to the small living room. He could hear a song playing on the old radio,and cautiously stepped out of his room, and what he saw made him feel angry and relieved. Bucky was taking his shoes off, staggering around the room in a lazy attempt at dancing. It wasn’t until Steve called his name that Bucky turned around, eyes lighting up at the mere sight of his younger pal.. “Stevie!” Bucky called as he took steps towards him. Steve backed away, smelling the strong stench of booze on his friend’s breath. Bucky looked offended, but he was still swaying to the music. 

“What the hell, Buck? You had me worried sick! You left in the middle of a snow storm! I thought you were--” Steve trailed off, seeing Bucky turn around to increase the volume, completely ignoring his friend’s lecture. He didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to dance. He felt  _ so good! Why was Steve looking at him like that? He just wants to dance. _

Steve watched incredulously as his drunken friend twisted and turned around his apartment. He wanted to be mad, but Bucky looked so relaxed--like he was truly enjoying himself. He hasn’t seen his friend this laid back in a long time. Ever since winter came around, Bucky had been going out less, opting instead to hang with Steve or stay at home. Besides, Steve was sick way too often in the cold months, somebody had to take care of him. It’s this time of year that Buck gets his shit together because he  _ needs  _ to be there for Steve, what with his shit immune system and tendency to get himself roughed up. Bucky could never fully wind down after his long shifts at the dock, and not being able to go dancing with pretty girls made him irritated, so seeing him so carelessly move around without a care in the world had melted Steve’s anger and worry down to a cool flame.

“Stevie! Dance with me!” Bucky shouted, his eyes gleaming with joy. Now, Bucky knew Steve couldn’t dance. Whenever they went out, Buck would dance with dame after dame, while the blond sat in the corner and blended in with the wall. He had two left feet, and was convinced he’d never be able to learn, but right now Bucky was grabbing Steve’s hands and throwing him around. 

_ “Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny _

_ How you can love! _

_ Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny _

_ Heavens above! _

_ You make my sad heart jump with joy _

_ And when you're near I just _

_ Can't sit still a minute _

_ I'm so, oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny _

_ Please, tell me, dear _

_ What makes me love you so? _

_ You're not handsome, it's true _

_ But when I look at you _

_ I just, oh, Johnny _

_ Oh, Johnny, oh” _

Bucky was wrapping around Steve, turning him around, twisting him, and dancing in circles. Steve tried his hardest to keep up, losing his balance more than once, but Bucky held him tight, forcing Steve to move with him. Buck was grinning wide, the liquor fueling him. Steve began to get the hang of it and soon lost himself in the music and Bucky’s laughter. He couldn’t be angry when his friend was obviously enjoying himself. After the song ended, Bucky let go of Steve, who was a giggling mess. He looked at Buck, smile so white, who was curling up with laughter on the floor. They laughed together with no particular rhyme or reason, enjoying each other’s company. Finally, Bucky spoke, “You aren’t  _ that  _ bad of a dancer, Steve.” 

Steve lay on the soft carpet next to his drunk friend, feeling buzzed himself, just staring at the ceiling. He scoffed, turning his head to look at his friend, who was (much to his chagrin) looking back at him. Both smiling goofy grins, Steve felt warm inside. His stomach radiated a pleasant feeling throughout his body, and his heart was fluttering in his chest. Pure bliss. Bucky took a slight break of gazing into his friend’s eyes, to flash a look at his lips. His pink lips parted from laughter, his white teeth, slightly crooked on the bottom, showing. What he wouldn’t give in that moment to put his lips on his. Soft, slow, gentle... _ STOP. Steve ain’t a dame!  _

Bucky faced the ceiling again instead of Steve, worried he might not be able to control himself. The last thing he wanted was to offend Steve and ruin their friendship. Besides, he knew how Steve never managed to miss Mass unless he physically couldn’t leave his bed. Steve would think Bucky was a monster, a disgusting invert who would burn in Hell. All around them, the music continued to play. Bucky opted to close his eyes, his ears attuned to the heart wrenching words of Betty Hutton.  

_ “...I wish I didn't need your kiss,  _

_ Why must your kiss,  _

_ Torture me as long as this?  _

_ I might be smiling by now,  _

_ With some new, tender friend,  _

_ Smiling by now,  _

_ With my heart on the mend.  _

_ But when I try,  _

_ Something in my heart says, "No!",  _

_ You're still there,  _

_ I wish I didn't love you so...” _

Tears silently fell from Bucky’s eyes, sliding down his cheeks on either side and spilling onto the carpet. He completely forgot that Steve was next to him, probably watching him cry. Bucky just wanted to fade into the carpet--disappear forever, so he wasn’t so humiliated, but he heard the soft spoken words of his concerned friend in his ear. “Buck? Is everything alright?” Steve’s voice was apprehensive and caring, not hurtful or demeaning. Steve would never intentionally hurt Bucky’s feelings, especially in a time where he was vulnerable. Of course he was concerned for the man next to him--Bucky never cried. The last time he saw him cry is when Steve had that really bad asthma attack and Buck had been afraid to lose him.

Bucky carefully sat up, trying desperately not to puke. His head felt light, and tears still trickled down his flushed cheeks. “I’m fine, pal. Jus’ a little drunk.” He tried to stand, Steve already on his feet to assist him in getting up without collapsing. Bucky held onto Steve’s bony arms, steadying himself before looking into those big, baby-blue eyes filled with so much concern. 

“I could have told you that.” Steve joked hoping to lighten the mood. 

“Jerk.” He sniffed, releasing his grasp on Steve, heading towards the loveseat in the small living room. “Gonna have a lie down, if tha’s okay?” Steve nodded, and watched as Bucky fell asleep almost instantly. It was chilly in the apartment, and Steve would have felt extremely guilty if Bucky froze to death on his love seat, so he retrieved the quilt from his own bed and draped it over his snoozing friend. He opted to turn off the radio to give him a quiet atmosphere to sleep in, and found a place on the floor near the bookshelf. Steve brought out his sketchbook, and drew in the sight of his beautiful Bucky on the couch. He opened to a blank page, and began to sketch, capturing this peaceful moment forever. Some times Steve felt guilty that he drew his friend when he was unaware, but those always turned out to be the best pieces of work. One day, when Steve can attend a school for art, he’ll present some of those in his portfolio. 

When Bucky woke, it was to a loud banging on the front door. He was disoriented from being jolted up into the dark with a crazy person banging on the door. After his eyes adjusted, he searched for Steve, worried something had happened to him. Bucky stood and faltered, experiencing his hangover in full blast. The knocking was joined with shouting, Bucky’s head throbbing even worse now. “Open up, Rogers! Your rent is late again!” 

Striding to the door, Bucky unlocked it and threw it open, nearly offsetting the greasy looking man in front of him. He wore a tattered, off-white button up that was missing buttons here and there like it was buttoned up wrong. Clearly this man wasn’t expecting Bucky, because he was facing Buck’s chest, and slowly moved his gaze to meet Bucky’s unamused expression. Finally the man sputtered out, “Y-you’re not Rogers. Where is he? More importantly, where’s the rent?” 

As if on cue, Steve approached from behind Bucky’s arm, a toothbrush in his hand, and a very worried expression plastered on his face. “Mr. Van Graff, I’m sorry. I haven’t been out due to the cold and the storm, but I fully intended to pay you as soon as it cleared up. Let me fetch the money.” Steve turned back around and Mr. Van Graff grumbled, crossing his arms and avoiding Bucky’s death glare. How dare this man bang on his Steve’s door this late, and yell at him! No one treats Steve Rogers like that. Not this man, not no one. It was taking everything in his hungover body not to knock this man’s teeth out of his fat skull.

“Here you go, sir. Hope your night is calm. Stay warm.” Steve forked over a lot of change to the bald man, and smiled at him politely. They watched as he counted it, grumbling to himself and sniffling in the weather. 

The man scoffed and pointed a chubby finger at Steve. “My night would be better if you hadn’t shorted me, kid. This is the last time I put up with this. You give me my rent  _ in full  _ and on time next time or you’re out of a place to stay.” Mr. Van Graff scolded Steve, knowing full that Steve would pay in full had he had it. Bucky’s blood boiled, but instead of fighting, Steve said, “Of course, sir.” and Bucky slammed the door on the man’s face. The second the door was shut, he whipped around and hissed an insult. 

“The fuck does that man think he’s talking to? He’s lucky I didn’t deck ‘im right in jaw.”

“Buck-”

“Is he always like that?” 

Steve looked at his feet sullenly, “Only when rent’s late...or short.” He glanced back up at his friend’s face. It was clearly angry, even in the dark of the night. “Which is every month…” 

The room around them was engulfed in silence, the only sound present was their breathing. Steve could tell Bucky was attempting to say something, but he wasn’t sure how to present it. Eventually, he spoke smoothly, “I can...move in with you? O-or you with me? I mean--both our paychecks should be enough to have food and pay rent.”

“Bucky, no. I can handle that jerk on my own. I’ve gotten this far with hardly any problems.” Steve turned around to return his toothbrush back to the dimly lit bathroom. Bucky followed in pursuit, determined to persuade his stubborn friend. 

“You heard what he said, Stevie. Next month, he’ll kick you out if you’re short on the rent. Come live with me.” Steve could see his friend’s sincere look in the mirror. Having Bucky under the same roof would make Steve the happiest person on the planet, but his stomach lurched in spite of his recent feelings. He could potentially ruin everything they’ve built with his crush on Bucky, but Steve was stronger than he seemed (emotionally). If it became too much, he could always move back out, right? 

Blue eyes met green, both searching for...something. The friendship between them was so strong, Bucky could see the answer in his friend’s eyes before he even spoke.

“Yeah...yeah okay, I will.”


	3. You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve moves in with Bucky, and Bucky decides to take him out dancing that night when they meet a girl named Ruth who decides to flirt with Buck...  
> Okay, I'm so bad at summaries but there is a fight between Bucky and Steve and its a nsfw chapter

December 1st , 1940 

 

They had been packing for a few hours--not that Steve had owned a lot of things, but they kept getting distracted by every little thing they found: pictures, old film tickets, the odd little trinket that held so many memories. Steve kept everything because his life with Bucky was something he never wanted to forget. His favorite sentimental piece was a Coca-Cola bottle cap from a few summers back. They had saved up enough money to take a day trip to Coney Island. They had spent the whole day on rides, playing games, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It was an extremely hot day, and Bucky had spent the last of his money on a cold bottle of Coke to share while they watched the sun set over the horizon. Steve kept that bottle cap after all this time because it made him grin like a fool to remember that day spent with his best friend. 

“Alright, Steve. We should start taking boxes back to my house before it gets too late, yeah?” Steve wasn’t paying attention, he was paying too close attention to the cap in his hand, a faint smile on his face. Bucky set the box he was carrying down and crouched next to Steve, one hand on his shoulder. “What ‘ya got there, pal?” 

Steve’s head snapped up, his gaze locking with Bucky’s. Bucky had seen Steve’s moment to himself and had felt kind of guilty for barging in on his thoughts, but they had until noon to move out. Steve realized he was staring at his friend with a blank expression, so he just opened his hand and studied his friend’s face, hoping by all hope he doesn't remember where this cap came from. “A cola cap? What’cha got that for?” 

Steve flashed a solemn smile and spoke, “I don't know...Guess I just thought it was worth keepin’.” He stood up, slipping the cap into his pocket and looking at Bucky as he stood as well. “So, let's get going.” 

Bucky smiled, and starting lifting boxes. They had put enough of Steve’s things into as little boxes as possible making it a one time trip from one apartment to the other. Steve took one last look at his place before slowly closing the door and locking it, returning the key to Van Graff, who just gave a grunt of approval and let him leave. 

Luckily Bucky didn't live too many blocks from Steve because the weather was harsh. It was bad enough that they had to carry boxes in the cold, but it was even more inconvenient because of the snow they had to trudge through. It wasn't too atrocious, though because it was around noon and the sun shone bright despite the cold, warming their faces as they chit chatted back and forth until reaching Bucky’ place. After mastering the stairs to the second floor, he placed the boxes on the ground and fished his key out of his pocket. He pushed the door wide open, and gestured for Steve to enter. 

It's not like Steve had never been to Bucky’s place, of course he had, but this was... _ different.  _ Because now there was more space on the shelves, and furniture was moved around to intentionally create space for Steve’s belongings. Steve’s face grew warm with the effort made for him. He had set the boxes in the middle of the room, far too tired to carry them anymore. Bucky had turned the lights on once he brought the boxes in, and headed towards the kitchen. He didn't have much in terms of food, but he had some bread and peanut butter which would make for a nice snack.

“Peanut butter sandwich sound good?” Steve made an affirmative hum as he busied himself with placing books on the small bookshelf. Suddenly, a thought struck Bucky, and he opened the refrigerator to see that he had about a cup left of milk-Steve's favorite beverage, aside from coffee. He poured him a cup and himself some water from the faucet. Bucky didn't have any sort of dining area, so he set the two glasses on his old coffee table along with the plate of sandwiches. Steve smiled when he saw the glass of milk, but frowned when he saw Bucky had slightly brown water. He opened his mouth to complain but before any word came out, Bucky held his hand up, “It's alright, pal. Welcome to your new home.” 

They ate together in silence, enjoying each other's company. They could have turned on the radio, but they were too worn out to bother. Bucky and Steve spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and arranging everything to accommodate Bucky’s new roommate. Steve's cot was sold for some spare cash because there was no way for them to move it from one place to another, and besides, Bucky had a pull out sofa that came from his parent’s house. It was a faded floral sofa with the cushions sinking to the metal underneath it. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it would do, and it would be way more comfortable than Steve’s old cot. 

Steve had been looking round the room, absentmindedly munching on his sandwich. His heart felt so heavy with all of the changes. He missed his place, but he was so excited to be living with Bucky. He thought back to their sleepovers when they were younger, how they’d take the bed out of the couch and make a fort that closed all around them. They would stay up past bedtime, giggling and telling stories until Mrs. Barnes would peek her head in and scold them for staying up. And every morning, she’d peek her head back into see the two boys sound asleep, cuddled up under one blanket, and she’d smile fondly. Steve wondered if they could make a fort, like old times, except now no one would tell them when to go to bed, and maybe this time, Steve will take advantage of the closeness and absorb more of Bucky’s heat and get as close to him as possible. Maybe Bucky would return his feelings and they could share a kiss in the fort... 

“...Steve? You alright, pal?” Bucky had placed his hand gently on his friend’s shoulder,startling him out of his day dreams. Steve blushed, embarrassed to be caught in his own thoughts, but quickly responded, “Just thinking about when we were kids and we’d make forts around the sofa.”

Bucky grinned wide, staring at his best friends face. “And Ma would bring us snacks.” He released a breathy laugh, eyes watering fondly.

“Those were always the best days of my life.” Steve admitted. He began to stare at his feet, slightly embarrassed. His face had grown hot, worried Bucky could somehow read his thoughts. It’s even more embarrassing how often he’s thought about kissing his best friend since that day Bucky walked out. 

“Mine, too. Say, want to go out tonight to celebrate? I know a real nice place to dance that has plenty gals.” Of course he did. Bucky was the biggest ladies man in Brooklyn, he knew where all the nice places were to go and find babes. The only problem was that none of the dames ever wanted to dance with Steve. And who would? He was smaller than any girl they’d meet, and lanky and extremely uncoordinated. Besides he never learned to dance anyway, so he’d always opt to sit back and watch Bucky charm the skirts off of every girl in the room. But, no matter how much he hated going dancing, he loved Bucky more, so he swallowed his feelings and flashed a pearly smile. “Sure, Buck. I’d like that.”

* * *

 

It was nine o’clock when Bucky and Steve had finally made it to The Claddagh, the little hole-in-the-wall nightclub that the teens and twenty-somethings went to hook up and dance and get away from their mundane lives. The Claddagh also had a small bar in the corner for the older guests. Back during the Prohibition it mostly contained soda, but if you knew how to ask, chance are you could get something a little stronger. Whenever Bucky walked into any room, heads turned immediately. He always waltzed in with his gorgeous smile and brunette hair slicked back. He was perfect from head to toe, dressed dashingly in black slacks, a white button up shirt with black suspenders holding his slacks up and an overcoat. He looked amazing as always, while Steve looked, well, cold. And small. He didn’t have very many nice clothes, and he was not going to wear his church slacks out to dance, so Steve opted to dress sensible and casual. 

Not even three steps into the building and Bucky was approached by a beautiful redhead in a sleek floral dress that accentuated her curves and her bosom. Steve’s face grew hot as he averted his eyes, opting to look for a place to sit and mope. He snuck across the room speedily, not so easily avoiding the swinging bodies, and found a seat in the corner.

“Hey there, handsome. The name’s Ruth. Wanna dance?” Ruth had no shame, and lots of game. Bucky liked that about her. She was upfront and not afraid to ask a man to dance. Bucky smiled with a gleam in his eye as he turned to talk to Steve, only to see he was no longer by his side. “Your friend went over there. Not much of a dancer, is he?” She gestured over her shoulder to the small frame tucked away in the corner of the room with his head down. Before Bucky could apologize to the girl so he could speak with Steve, he was being dragged to the center of the dance floor the second Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood” began to play. 

No man could dance quite like James Buchanan Barnes. There was a certain air about him, an air of confidence and maturity. He danced so casually, effortlessly, yet made it look so easy when it really wasn’t. Bucky could give Fred Astaire a run for his money. And Steve just took in the magical sight before him. He just observed quietly from his corner, practically invisible to the rest of the room, but hyperaware of his friend dancing like no one was watching. Because of Steve’s pseudo invisibility, he pulled his sketchbook out of his coat pocket and decided to draw his best friend in the midst of one his most favorite activities. It was a more challenging situation to draw because of the motion, but Steve was able to capture some of the best moments onto his notebook. 

One song ends, and another begins, but Ruth has Bucky by the wrists. She gazes lustily into his eyes, and winks at him; meanwhile, all Buck can think about is his friend all alone in the corner. Frank Sinatra’s deep baritone voice filled the crowded room, and Ruth pulled Bucky flush against her body, distracting him from his thoughts and instead he focused on the blood rushing through his entire body as arousal soared through his veins. Steve proceeded to track Bucky’s every movement; however, much to his surprise, Bucky was watching him, too.

_ “You'd be so nice to come home to _ __  
_ You'd be so nice by the fire _ __  
_ While the breeze on high sang a lullaby _ __  
_ You'd be all that I could desire _ __  
__  
_ Under stars chilled by the winter _ __  
_ Under an August moon burning above _ __  
_ You'd be so nice, you'd be paradise _ __  
_ To come home to and love _ __  
__  
_ Under stars chilled by the winter _ __  
_ Under an August moon burning above _ __  
_ You'd be so nice, you'd be paradise _ _  
_ __ To come home to and love…”

While he was holding Ruth’s body against his, Bucky would make an effort to gaze directly into Steve’s blue eyes whenever he was facing him. His expression was hungry and animalistic, and a deep tremor ran through Steve’s entire body when he met the eyes of his best friend. Bucky didn’t even seem to take his eyes off Steve when Ruth shoved her face into his neck, suckling on his skin. Clearly by Ruth’s reaction to the lyrics, and the heat radiating from Bucky’s body, Ruth thought she was going home with him tonight. Normally, on any other night Bucky would take her back to his place to have some fun, but it’s different now that Steve was with him. He’d never subject his best friend to that, especially not on his first night living with Buck. Poor Steve couldn’t even speak to a dame, Bucky’s couldn’t imagine how he’d react to hearing his friend shag a girl in the other room.

Nevertheless, the song ended and Ruth whispered something in Bucky’s ear, placing a wide grin on his face. He flashed Steve one last glance, gesturing outside with his eyebrows before being dragged through the doors into the cold night. Steve sat in shock in his little corner. A million thoughts surged through his mind. What just happened? Why was Bucky staring at him like that while he was rubbing against a dame? Is he taking her back to the apartment and leaving Steve alone to walk home in the dark and cold streets? His weak heart began to pound and his vision began to blur. Amongst the excited bodies, Steve pushed past them all the bathroom in the back.

* * *

 

Once outside, Ruth tossed Bucky to the alley beside the nightclub. She backed him to the wall, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she pushed herself up against him once more. Bucky kissed her back with just as much force as she was exerting, wrapping one hand in her auburn hair and the other groping her ass under her dress. It was well freezing outside, but their combined arousal coursed through each other’s bodies. Ruth let out a beautiful moan with Bucky’s grip on her ass and she pulled her mouth away from his. “God, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” Before Bucky could respond, she was unbuttoning his slacks and him out of them. His cock had already been hard since she pulled his body to hers inside, but now as the cold hit it, he hissed. Ruth’s hot breath brushed over the head, and Bucky let out a guttural moan, and shoved her mouth on his member with the hand that was still tangled in her hair. 

Contrary to Steve, not one thought ran through Bucky’s head. He was so focused on the warm mouth bobbing up and down on his dick. He had to admit that this girl had a talented mouth and knew exactly what to do to make him come. Suddenly, his vision went blank and he was shooting his hot release into Ruth’s mouth, who promptly spat it onto the ground next her her feet. She crawled back up to Bucky, pressed her mouth to his, and tucked him back into his slacks. “So...where to now? Yours or mine?” 

Bucky blinked, the red haired girl slowly coming into focus. Damn, she was hot and had just given him an unbelievable orgasm, but he knew he had to find Steve. He looked Ruth in the eyes, and flashed a shy smile, “Listen, Ruth , thank you, but I can’t tonight. My friend Steve--” A cold, hard smack was plastered right across his cheek, and the red headed girl was fuming.

“Unbelieveable! I just sucked your cock on the cold concrete in a dark alleyway, and all you can think about is that blond bag of bones inside?”

“Hey, now. That’s my friend you’re talking about. And I’m sorry. You’re lovely, but I can’t. Not tonight.” Ruth glared at him, scowled and strutted away, back into the warmth of the mass of bodies. Meanwhile, Bucky stood out in the cold and let the guilt wash over him like a tidal wave. He never should have led her on in the first place, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have let such a wonderful dame like Ruth get on her knees in the cold, hard alley way for a blowjob. And Steve...Fuck, he needed to find Steve. He hoped with all hope that Steve didn’t try to walk home alone this late. Bucky rearranged himself and headed back inside to find his friend. His stomach dropped when he didn’t see Steve in the same corner as when he left him. There wasn’t very many places he could have gone in such a short amount of time. Bucky ran to the bartender to ask if he had gone up, maybe got a drink. “The short blond kid? No, he didn’t buy a drink, but he did get up to go to the restroom.” Bucky thanked the man, and shuffled through the dancing bodies until he reached the men’s restroom. It had only one toilet, so chances are Steve locked it. Bucky reached for the doorknob when, much to his surprise, the door was unlocked. 

Steve was standing in front of the mirror, knuckles white from his grip on the porcelain sink. His eyes were puffy and red, his chest heaving. “Shit, Steve…” Bucky closed the door, and reached for Steve, who backed away. Confused and hurt, Bucky questioned, “What’s the matter?”

Steve didn’t answer, he only wiped his face, and shoved Bucky back against the door. Blue eyes met green, and small knuckles collided with Bucky’s hard chest. Tears trickled down Steve’s face as he hit his best friend, desperately attempting to push words out of his mouth, “You...bring me...here...to make...me watch...you dance...with some...girl!” Steve stuttered between punches. Bucky stood there, letting Steve meagerly beat on his chest. Soon Steve couldn’t even speak, he could only cry. Hot tears streamed down his face, his chest heaved and he fell to his knees, Bucky catching him and sliding down the door to bring his best friend into a hug. “Gee, Steve. God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean nothing by it. If it makes you feel better, I told her I had to come back inside to find you and she smacked me good ‘n hard across the face.” 

“Jerk.” Steve moved from Bucky’s embrace, sniffled and tried to stand. Bucky saw he was still shaky, and stood to help him steady his feet. Their gazes met, both faces clearly displaying guilt and forgiveness. “I  _ am  _ sorry, Steve.” 

“Me too, Buck.” 

Bucky reached around to the sink to wet a towel and dab at Steve’s eyes to reduce the swelling from his tears. Steve shyly grinned up at his friend in a quiet thanks. When he decided everything was right and normal, Bucky muttered, “Let’s go home.”


	4. You Always Hurt the Ones You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Claddagh. This chapter contains masturbation, and more violence at the end. The song used is "You Always Hurt the Ones You Love" by the Mills Brothers.

_You Always Hurt the Ones You Love_

December 2nd, 1940,

The walk home from The Claddagh had been mostly silent, with only a few shy smiles shared with each other as they passed under the street lights which generously illuminated their flushed faces, their breath visible in the frigid air. Snow fell liberally on the ground around them, coating the city in white. Steve shivered visibly, wrapped in his coat like a babe. By the time they arrived home, it was a quarter to one in the morning, and the apartment offered little comfort from the cold. Bucky had work down at the docks at 5 am, and Steve worked at the grocer’s at 10am.

Upon arriving home, Bucky let Steve change and brush his teeth in the bathroom, while he changed in his room. While Steve prepared for bed, Bucky decided it’d be right nice of him to fix Steve’s bed on the foldout couch, complete with an extra warm blanket he had stashed away in his closet because Lord knows Steve needed it more than Bucky did. He had just finished up the bed when Steve emerged from the restroom, shutting the light off, and closing the door. When he looked up, he saw Bucky standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

“Buck...you didn’t have to do that--”

The brunet held up his hand, “I know, but I’m still feeling mighty bad about earlier and besides, the couch is hard to unfold if you’ve never done it before…” Steve’s eyes watered in the dark room, not visible to his friend in front of him. So many emotions swam through Steve’s body and he knew it would be hard to sleep tonight. The silence stretched, two pairs of eyes looking about the room, anywhere--the floor, the ceiling, that little hole in the wall by the bathroom--that wasn’t the other person. Steve’s wet eyes landed on the unfamiliar blanket on the bed, and Buck’s eyes followed his gaze. Steve, filled with so much love for his friend, took a step towards him, and hugged him tight. “Thanks for being such a good pal.” He whispered, voice cracking.

Bucky smiled into the blond hair. “Well, I’m with ya til the end of the line, kid.” They might have held the hug a little longer than normal, but Steve and Buck aren’t normal friends, not really. They’ve always been boys with lots of emotion, and they’ve been close since they were kids. Besides, they were in the comfort of their own home. Finally, Steve pulled back and looked at his feet. He felt way too comfortable in Bucky’s arms and decided it was time to say good night.

“Well-”

“I guess-” The two spoke over each other and chuckles filled the empty room. Their eyes met one finally time before Bucky whispered, “G’night, Steve.”

“Night, Buck.” Bucky shuffled to his room silently, leaving Steve in the living room alone. He crawled under the warm blankets, wrapping himself up so no cold air would reach him and let his mind wander. He knew after the day he just had that he wouldn’t get much sleep anyway. The past few days ran through his head rapidly: the incident in the alleyway, Bucky sleeping next to him, Bucky freaking out on him, dancing with an intoxicated Bucky, _moving out into Bucky’s apartment._ He especially thought of the way Bucky seemed to seduce Steve while dancing with that girl...whatever her name was. Just the simple memory of Bucky ogling him in The Claddagh caused Steve’s heart to race, his face heating up, and his loose pajama pants to suddenly feel full. The image kept replaying in his mind over and over, and he wanted badly to think of _literally anything else_ than the way Bucky’s eyes burned into his own. Steve attempted desperately to block the thoughts from his mind for almost half an hour, when he finally decided something needed to be done with the tightness in his pants. Risking the cold, Steve hopped up and trotted to the hat stand where his coat was hanging and pulled out his sketchbook where he had captured his friend dancing. He squinted his eyes to see the piece with what little light was available in the room without having to wake Bucky by turning any on. He had done a decent job capturing the movement of his friend mid dance.

Back in bed, Steve curled up under the blankets with his picture and his memory to fuel his fantasy. His head was swirling; he knew it was wrong to be thinking of his friend this way, and feeling this way about him, but he couldn’t stop himself. He felt dirty as he stuck his still-bruised hand down the band of his pants to grip his hard on. His breath was shaky as he let it out. It had been so long since Steve had touched himself, typically because he could never imagine anything worthy of masturbation. He owned an old, crumpled dirty mag that Buck had stole from his pops when they were teens that Bucky had given him once he started having sex because he had no further use for it, but it hardly did anything for him. Not anymore, anyway. Sure, the women were nice, and their breasts were perky, but after having seen the same women over and over again, he had become numb to their feminine bodies. Now, Steve was touching himself thinking of his best friend, and right now he couldn’t be bothered by how _wrong_ it was. His strokes started off slow, shy almost, and scared that he’d be caught. His thumb danced along the tip of his dripping member.

Small noises escaped into the quiet air as Steve’s head filled with dirty thoughts of a brunet gazing lustily into his own blue eyes. The blond’s strokes grew quicker, more needy as his heart raced, and his imagination wandered. Bucky was no longer dancing with Ruth, but instead was dancing alone, slowly removing his clothes and discarding them to the floor, eyes connected with Steve’s the entire time. His shirt was gone first, along with his suspenders, thrown haphazardly on the floor. His toned torso shined with sweat as he swayed seductively to the music. Tantalizingly slow, Bucky unbuttoned his trousers, a smirk so mischievous on his face, it made imaginary Steve and real Steve blush redder than an apple. Steve’s grip on his dick tightened with so much need and fervor, never feeling to turned on in his entire life. Those women in the magazines never made him feel this good. Steve was aware his moans were more audible than he intended, but he couldn’t care less at this moment. Imaginary Bucky had finally stripped himself of his trousers, revealing his straining cock in his underwear. Bucky slid his hand down his chest all the way past his hips and gripped his dick through the thin fabric of his briefs.

As Steve’s imagination ran wild, his strokes became more and more desperate, and with that final image of Bucky in his grasp, he spilled his hot seed all over his hand. He gasped for air as his orgasm rushed through the entirety of his body, his lungs rattling in his chest and his back arching off of the bed. It took every bit of restraint in him not to scream as the orgasm washed over him. How embarrassing would that be to have Bucky hear Steve moan with the thought of him (not that Bucky would _ever know_ that Steve was imagining him.) As he laid down letting himself regain his composure, he examined the mess. His ejaculate was all over his hand and (luckily) his blanket, not Bucky’s. Steve didn’t realize how tired he was until after that. It’s amazing what an orgasm could do. Before he could let the guilt inch its way into his mind, Steve rolled over and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

When Bucky woke up in the morning, for a split second, he was terribly confused. He blinked and the memories flooded back to him of Steve moving in and of their night out, and the fight. He doubted he’d ever stop feeling guilty about what happened at the club with...what’s her name? Ruby? Renee? It didn’t matter. What mattered was Steve and the all too strong smell of coffee and burnt toast. Bucky hated the smell of burnt toast, but that’s how his best friend has always liked it. He stepped out of bed, feet stinging on the cold wood floor and sending shivers down his spine. He pulled his shirt on and padded to the kitchenette where he saw Steve gnawing on his toast with a pencil in his hand and his sketchbook open. There were only a few marks on the page, and Bucky could tell he was concentrating.

 

“Rogers, if you continuously burn your toast on purpose, I’m gonna hafta kick you out.” Bucky joked, pouring himself some coffee, but leaving most of it to Steve. Coffee was a luxury that was very hard to afford. Best to savor it.

 

“Mmhmm…” He replied absently, too focused on his work. Bucky leaned over his friend’s shoulder, taking a sip of his coffee, and took a peek at his work. It was an unfinished sketch of the living room, exactly the way it looked at that moment in time. Bucky couldn’t think of any reason why Steve decided to draw that, but then again he never really knew what was going through the artist’s mind, or what inspired him.

 

“Why are you up so early drawing? Did you even sleep?” If he had slept, he would have only gotten 3 hours maybe. God knows Bucky couldn’t sleep either, knowing Steve was in the other room. Steve responded with a grunt, and waved him off, continuing to meticulously scribble intricate lines and shapes onto the page of his sketch book. Bucky raised his eyebrows and walked to his small bathroom to shave before he headed to work. Looking into the mirror, Bucky frowned at his hair that was beginning to get too long. He slicked it back and put it on his extremely long mental list of things to get done, alongside things such as: get a better job, become richest man in the world, provide for Steve, be happy, pay for Steve’s art classes, et cetera. The list goes on and on, some things easily done and others not so much. Sighing audibly, Bucky changed for work and started towards the front door, stopping only to announce he was leaving and would be off around two and would meet Steve at the store to walk him home. Steve replied with a disengaged, “Alright. Have a good day.” and then Bucky walked out of the apartment into the frigid winter air.

Steve had gotten no sleep his first night at Bucky’s apartment. He tossed and turned for hours, his mind so alive with recollection of the past few days. He had agreed to move in with Bucky, which--don’t get him wrong, he is eternally grateful for-- but he felt so incompetent, like he couldn’t take care of himself. It’s nice to have someone care so much for you, but Steve was Steve and he could get by on his own. After lying in bed for what seemed like an eternity, he finally ripped the blankets off of him and wandered around, gathering his meager art supplies, before settling in the small kitchenette and staring into the void, losing all thought and looking past the room ahead.

He doesn’t know how long he stares wide-eyed, minutes probably, but he sighs and decides to make coffee and some toast to calm him. He didn’t really know where Bucky kept anything, but there were only so many cupboards to open, and soon he found small loaf of bread in the icebox, and the coffee he brought from home in a cupboard. Steve knew that Bucky’s “luxury” appliances were left to him by his parents, because there simply was no way Bucky would have a toaster otherwise, but it still left a pinch of jealousy in his gut. Steve plugged it in and places two slices into the slots. While he waited for that, Steve got a mug and boiled some water on the range. That was one thing Steve knew how to do without any fancy appliance--make coffee. He’d simply boil hot water, put a mesh tea steeper over the top of his mug, place a paper towel over it with the coffee grounds inside, and pour boiling water over it.

The smell of his burning toast awoke his senses, and Steve grabbed a single slice from the toaster, leaving the other for later. Finally, coffee in hand and toast in his mouth, Steve’s mind woke and he began scribbling furiously. The living room was a little messy from his bed, the blankets thrown around and lying haphazardly on the floor, but Steve wanted to document his first night at Bucky’s-- _his--_ place. Speaking of Bucky, he emerged from his room, hair disheveled and looking dangerously beautiful. Steve hoped that one day he could get Bucky to actually model for him, but he doubted he’d say yes, and thus kept that thought to himself. Bucky had said something about burnt toast, but Steve could care less right now, as he was extremely focused on the coat rack by the front door, wanting to get every detail just right. Bucky hovered over him, and kept saying things, but when he finally decided to leave for work, Steve had told him to have a good day and continued his work.

Eight AM finally rolled around, and Steve had gotten every huge, and extremely small detail drawn in his sketchbook. The only thing left to do was date and sign. _3rd Dec, 1940 S. Rogers._ Finally, upon second thought, he titled it _“Ours”_ because really, it’s not Bucky’s apartment anymore, it’s theirs, and Steve knows that his friend wants him to feel at home. Steve had about two hours to kill before work, and he was feeling good today. He was still sore from his scuffle in the alleyway, but he never have himself time to heal, so he was used to the familiar ache in his muscles. Deciding to be a good housemate, Steve tidied up his mess in the kitchen, and turned on the small radio while cleaning the living area. Being artistic, Steve appreciated every form of creative expression, and music dug deep in his soul. He loved nothing more than a beautiful song song with passion and fervor. Steve couldn’t carry a tune, but he loved to sing along anyway. Folding the blankets, he sung along with the brassy voice on the stereo.

_“_ _You always hurt the one you love_ _  
_ _The one you shouldn't hurt at all_ _  
_ _You always take the sweetest rose_ _  
_ _And crush it till the petals fall_ _  
__  
_ _You always break the kindest heart_ _  
_ _With a hasty word you can't recall_ _  
_ _So if I broke your heart last night_ _  
_ _It's because I love you most of all...”_

The song ended and Steve realized his heart was aching and stomach was wrenching. He remembered the events of last night, and how Bucky had watched him while he danced with another girl, and then left him alone to get a quick blow in the alley. It broke Steve’s heart last night, like a punch to the face. When he had escaped to the restroom, he was been so angry he didn’t know what to do with himself. And when Bucky came looking for him, Steve decided to take his heartbreak out on the only person he loved, and the only person that truly cared for him. It wasn’t as if it was the first time Steve and Bucky had fought, last night just felt worse somehow, there was no shouting match, and it was unlike their previous spats that were usually centered around being angry at the other’s stupid actions. Steve’s heart ached in his chest, it ached for the events of the night, it ached for Bucky, it ached over how he _loved_ Bucky. Maybe moving in with him wasn’t the best idea…

* * *

 

Steve had made it to work despite the freezing air and the snow on the ground reaching his shins. He placed his damp coat on the hook in the break room, and shoved his gloves into the pocket before pulling his time card and clocking in. He passed Elaine, a petite redheaded girl he worked with, and smiled to her, “Good morning, Elaine. Been busy today?”

She looked up from her clipboard that she was taking stock on, and shrugged, “Not really. No one wants to get out in this weather. Mr. O’Brien said if doesn’t clear up, he’ll let us go home. No point in being here with nothing to do.” Steve nodded, and Elaine went back to her busy work counting boxes. Steve had found Mr. O’Brien at the checkout counter, counting money. He noticed Steve and immediately smiled a bright, warm grin. “Oh, Steven! How are you? Are you feeling better?”

“I’m doing just great, Mr. O’Brien, despite the weather. What have you got for me today?” Steve loved his boss and loved his job. Mr. O’Brien was the kindest old man he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and Steve felt truly blessed to have him as his boss. Despite only making .30¢ an hour, Steve enjoyed coming to work. Being the generous and charitable man he is, Mr. O’Brien gave a small holiday bonus to his employees, which everyone was grateful for.

“Oh, just the usual, Steven. Stock the shelves, and keep doing your most amazing work.” That was easy enough, and Steve gave his boss a smile and went on his way to work, busily stocking the shelves and sweeping the floors.

About three hours into his shift, two men came storming in, boots trailing snow all over the small store. They didn’t seem to be there to do anything but cause trouble, cruising up and down the aisle, eyes landing on Elaine. Her back was to them, attention focused on checking off items on her list. One of the men approached her, and grabbed her backside, causing her to jump and wheel around in shock. “Hey, sweetheart.” The man spat, placing his hands on her hips. “Wanna come home with me?” Elaine’s eyes searched for her boss with panic, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, her gaze met Steve’s, who was standing at his full height of 5’4’’.

“Hey, buddy. Keep your hands to yourself.” Steve had threatened, and he felt a strong hand on his shoulder forcing him around. It was the other man with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do?” The man taunted, and flicked Steve’s nose. His blood boiled in his veins, and Steve surged forward, stumbling the man backwards, but not quite knocking him over. The other man let go of Elaine and grabbed Steve by his collar, holding him out for his friend to reel his arm back and deliver several blows to Steve’s gut, face, and chest. Steve didn’t care he was getting the shit beat out of him, he did what needed to be done, and that was to get Elaine safe. He could feel his previously healed lip split, and warm blood leak from his nose. Not for nothing, Steve kicked as best he could, but it wasn’t until Mr. O’Brien’s voice announced, “Gentlemen, do we have a problem here?” that Steve was dropped onto the cold, hard floor, and the men held their hands up saying, “Not at all” and “No, sir” before running for dear life out of the store. Through his swollen eye, Steve saw Mr. O’Brien standing above him, a 9mm being tucked gently back into his pocket. He made eye contact with Steve, and winked, helping him off of the floor and sitting him down in the break room.

“Oh, Steven. Such a hot tempered boy, but you did a very heroic act, and I am sure Elaine is very grateful, but next time, do come and find me first. Save yourself all of this pain, my boy.” Elaine appeared in the doorway with a bowl of water and a wash cloth. Mr. O’Brien stepped aside, and allowed her to dress Steve’s wounds.

As she wet the cloth, she spoke very softly, embarrassed, “Thank you...really.” She wiped the blood from his face gently, avoiding eye contact, the guilt making her stomach churn.

“S’no problem. They had no right to touch you like that. I’m sorry I didn’t get to ‘em sooner.” Elaine scoffed at him, her eyes wide in bafflement. “What?”

“You. I can’t believe you. You just got your ass kicked by a couple of brutes and you’re sorry?” She rinsed the cloth off, ringed it out and brought it back up to Steve’s face. He hissed out at the sting on his lip, and Elaine pulled away. “Shit, sorry.”

“Steve?” _No,_ Steve thought. _Not Bucky. Not now_ . “ _Je-sus,_ Steve. Again? When are you gonna learn?” Bucky had squatted down to get level with Steve, took his face between his thumb and finger, and turned his face to asses the damage. “God, Steve. What the hell happened?”

Elaine jumped in to fill Bucky in on the situation, making sure to explicitly say that Steve was very brave. Of course he was brave. He’s the bravest man Bucky knows--reckless as all hell--but braver than any man he’s ever met. “Come on, Steve. We gotta get you home.” Bucky leaned down to drape Steve’s arm around him and lift him to his feet. Elaine stood in the doorway with Steve’s coat, looking nervous, before saying, “Thanks, again,” and kissing Steve on the forehead. She waltzed away, and let them leave. Steve sprouted a toothy grin, as best he could with swollen lips. Bucky rolled his eyes, “All right, you ladies man. Don’t get a big head on me, you’re hard enough to carry without more weight.”

At the front door, Mr. O’Brien was waiting patiently to send them off. “I assume you can get him home safely, James?”

“Of course. Thank you so much for your help.” Steve glared at the ground, feeling helpless once again that Bucky had to come save his ass. “When can Steve come back?”

Mr. O’Brien held up his wrinkling hand, a gentle chuckle escaping him. “Whenever he is ready.” Bucky thanked him again, and took a step into the cold Brooklyn afternoon air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not spitting this out sooner. I've been going through a lot recently, and motivation had been extremely hard to come by. Thank you again for reading. My tumblr is usagiiiii.tumblr.com if you'd like to follow me :)


	5. I've Got You Under My SKin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He always thought Steve was handsome, and he’d seen him naked before when they were younger. He had just assumed his body had stayed the same since he stayed so small, but he was never more wrong. The image of Steve glistening with the water running off of him, bent over...Bucky knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. He felt so sinful, and so guilty, but so good. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More masturbation and some very small body image stuff. Not really, but enough to mention it I suppose. Song is either tge Virginia Bruce verson or the Sinatra version. Your pick. I hope you guys like it. I'm SO SORRY it took so long to update. Life is very hard and I'm working all the time. Much love to you all. Please leave some comments. Also I didn't proofread, so forgive me. thanksss

December 1940

 

The frigid Brooklyn air stung Steve’s swollen eyes, awakening his senses and filling him with dread. He was still angry at those thugs; wanting nothing more than to be able to intimidate and defeat all of his enemies with ease. While Bucky scolds him on the way home, arm slumped around him, Steve curses his fate. He questions God’s intentions of gifting him with the will to fight, but not the body or stamina. It all had to be a part of a bigger plan, right? There had to be _some_ reason.

“Are you even listening to me?” Steve’s mind snapped back to reality. He glanced sideways to observe Bucky furrowing his brows at him.

“No, why would I? You say the same thing every time, Buck. I don’t need the same speech all the time. I can handle myself.” At that moment, Bucky let go of his friend, and Steve stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. “See? I’m not a helpless little kid.”

“Steve…” Bucky reached for Steve’s elbow, pulling him inwards toward himself, “Not now, okay? The last thing we need is for you to get sick on top of all of this.” Bucky’s eyes pleaded with his friend not to argue with him in the cold. Steve glowered, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling ahead of Bucky, who sighed and rolled his eyes, following Steve for the remaining 2 blocks to their apartment. Once upstairs, Steve attempted to unlock the door, his hand shivering too hard for the key to fit in the lock. Bucky nudged him to the side; instead of taking the key from him, he held Steve’s hand steady, and guided the key to the lock and turned the knob. They stepped inside together. Steve trudged to the couch to take off his boots, Bucky hung up his jacket by the door, taking a minute to collect his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Steve further. He knew Steve’s strength was a touchy subject, and he’s been more antsy now than ever before. Two fights in a only a few days was not completely foreign, per say, but it hadn’t occurred in quite some time.

From the sofa, Steve seeped with emotion. It was visible on his swollen face just how upset he was, but there was something else there. Bucky knew him better than anyone else; he wasn’t just mad at Bucky, he was scared. Now _that_ was unusual for Steve. He was never scared. Never _visibly_ scared. Bucky knew to tread lightly in this instance. He took a seat next to Steve, keeping a small distance between them and let out a breath. “What’s on your mind, pal?”

Steve scoffed, avoiding his friend’s eye. “You already know.”

Bucky swallowed gently before speaking, “That was a brave thing you did back there, Steve. Really, Elaine was so grateful to you, as was Mr. O’Brien. You stood up for Elaine, and protected her from those perverts. You’re an honorable man, Steve.” Bucky’s hand had drifted to Steve’s slumped shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Maybe it was working.

“I didn’t _do_ anything, Buck. That’s the problem. I got the shit beat out of me like I do _every_ time.Mr. O’Brien scared them away; they laughed at me. They always _fucking laugh._ ” At some point, hot tears trailed down his bruised face. _Shit,_ Bucky thought, _Never thought that bothered him._

“Steve--”

“I don’t need your pity, either, James.” Steve spat, finally looking him in the eyes. “I didn’t need the pity when I was a kid, or when my mom died, or when I was late on rent, and I don’t need it now.”

“Is that what you think? That I’m a walking, talking personification of pity for you? Steve, you’re my _best friend_ . Everything I do is because I care for you. And I’ve never pitied you Steve because I’ve always _admired you._ You’ve got guts, and passion. You’re braver than any man I ever met. For fuck’s sake, you are even braver than me. You may not be physically strong, but your wit and dedication put you above any beefed up man you’ll encounter. You always do what’s right, and for that you’re a better man than any other.”

Steve’s heart sunk at the kind words from his friend. Here he was being rude and jumping to conclusions, and there Bucky was, right beside him as always, telling him how great he thinks Steve is. The hot tears proceeded their path down Steve’s rosy cheeks, feeling guilty but overwhelmed with love. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulder, and he instinctively buried himself into Bucky’s chest, sobbing into his dirty shirt. Bucky rubbed the blond’s back slowly in comfort. “Hey, it’s alright, Stevie.” He assured, still rubbing his back.  A few minutes pass, and Steve begins to calm down, backing away from his friend’s chest, and wiping his eyes.

“I feel so silly.” Steve chuckled half-heartedly, looking to Bucky with red eyes. Bucky flashed a lopsided grin. Suddenly, the overpowering urge to kiss Steve’s pink lips surged through him. Bucky’s heart beat like a drum in his chest, feeling weak suddenly. These thoughts have been invading his mind far too frequently, and it began to worry him. Resisting his overwhelming urge, Bucky opted instead to rustle Steve’s hair and smile at him.

“It’s okay to feel that way. Are you feeling okay?”

Steve shrugged, sniffling. “Eh, not too bad.” Bucky reached to place the back of his hand to Steve’s forehead to test his temperature.

“Steve, you have a fever. You should lie down.” He stood up to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom to place on Steve’s head. His heart was still racing, but now it was mostly out of fear for Steve’s health. His body doesn’t take too kindly to colds. Usually, when Steve gets sick, he’s bedridden for at least a week, sometimes longer. Bucky worried about affording medicine to help him get better, and about him staying warm inside all day. As he placed the cloth under the running water, Bucky checked his meagerly stocked medicine cabinet for anything that could tackle Steve’s fever, but there were nothing but bandages and ointment. He made a note to keep aspirin in the house.

As he walked back out to the living room, Bucky noticed Steve had his sketchbook out again. He was unsure as to what Steve could possibly be drawing at this time, so Bucky just sat himself at the edge of the couch and watched him sketch furiously. Steve made a motion to tell Bucky to wait a minute and continued with his work. Minutes pass, the wash cloth dries out, and Bucky shakes his leg, growing more impatient. “Stop it. You’re messing me up.”

“Well, you’re takin’ too long.” Bucky retorted. Nonetheless, he stopped shaking his leg. He wished desperately that Steve would hurry up because his mind was beginning to wander again. Wander to the events of the day, to his worry about Steve, to Steve’s lip between his teeth as he sketched whatever the hell he’s sketching. Finally, Steve sat up and threw the leather bound sketch book at Bucky. Bucky looked down at the page to see a sketch of two men. “These the guys from today?” Steve nodded.

“I figure if I can’t fight ‘em, I can at least help stop em’.” Buck had to admit that it was a good idea, but something about it made his gut twinge. He would never admit it to Steve, not now. He smiled at his friend, and clapped him on his back.

“It could work. I can bring it to Mr. O’Brien tomorrow--”

“Why can’t I bring it? I’ve got to work tomorrow anyway.”

Bucky sighed. “Steve, you’ve got a low grade fever. You gotta stay in and rest, so it doesn't get any worse.” Steve pushed himself up further onto the sofa, but Bucky stopped him with his hand. “Please don’t argue. I’m trying to do what’s best, and right now you need to rest, so you can get better sooner.” Steve huffed. There was one thing Steve hated more than being small: being babied, but he knew his friend had good intentions, so he gave in.

“Fine, but only because I don’t got the money to be sick.” Steve collected some clothes, and headed to the bathroom. “Gonna shower. I’ll leave it unlocked in case you need to go.”

“Hey, I ain’t gonna piss while you’re right next to me.” Steve just looked over his shoulder and shrugged. Bucky waited until the bathroom door closed and he heard the shower running before turning around to the couch. He was just going to straighten things up a little, but he caught his eye on Steve’s open sketchbook. It wouldn’t be snooping if it was already lying open, right? Bucky sat on the couch and picked up the leather book. The first picture was of course the one of the thugs at the store. He flipped the page to see a sketch of the hat stand next to the front door. It was extremely detailed and shaded just the right way for the morning light that he had drawn it in. That was from this morning before he left to go to work. Mesmerized, Bucky flipped the page again. What he saw before him made his breath catch in his throat. It was a beautiful sketch of Bucky dancing. Somehow Steve had managed to catch Bucky’s entire physique and face while also adding curved lines that displayed his movements while dancing. Bucky had never seen something so detailed and so elegant, especially not of him. He still had the picture Steve drew of him a few days ago in his clothes drawer, but this felt….different. It looked as if it had more emotions in every line.

Bucky stared at this picture for a while, feeling something different every time. Suddenly, Bucky heard a loud noise coming from the bathroom, and he jumped up, leaving the notebook on the couch. He ran to the bathroom, and walked in expecting to see Steve on the floor. But what he saw was not that at all. Steve, completely naked, bent over to pick up the small bottle of shampoo he had knocked over. He had stood back up to set it back on the side of the tub, but he jumped nearly a foot seeing Bucky standing there. He scrambled to cover himself up, but there was no curtain and the towel was on the sink. “Jesus, Buck!”

Finally Bucky’s brain began to register what was happening, and so was his dick. All he could do in that moment was stutter out a simple “Sorry,” and leave the bathroom. He rushed to his bedroom, locked the door behind him, and slid onto the floor. His head was fuzzy and his dick was hard. Bucky’s heart raced with adrenaline, and anxiety as he looked down at himself. He tried not to feel ashamed of himself as he took his dick out of his trousers to stroke it with the thought of the image he had just seen. He always thought Steve was handsome, and he’d seen him naked before when they were younger. He had just assumed his body had stayed the same since he stayed so small, but he was never more wrong. The image of Steve glistening with the water running off of him, bent over...Bucky knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. He felt so sinful, and so guilty, but so good. Tears streamed down his face as his strokes grew faster. Why was he doing this? It’s so wrong, so wrong, so _right._ Bucky covered his mouth as he came onto his hand with a cry. He wiped his hand onto a stray a piece of clothing on the floor next to him, and continued to sob into himself. He felt so _goddamn disgusting,_ but at the same time he felt good. It was too strange of a feeling to put a word to. He felt disgusting _because_ he felt good. He knew he shouldn’t think of a man that way, especially not his best friend.

Suddenly a soft knock on his door startled him to reality. “Buck?” He wiped his eyes and sniffed, trying to look as if he wasn’t just crying or masturbating. “Hey, I’m not mad, Bucky….” Steve knocked again just as Bucky had stood and opened the door. “Oh! Don’t be upset, please. It was nothin’.....” Steve was dressed now, his hair damp in the cold apartment. Bucky couldn’t look him in the eye, so instead he went to the busted up radiator and gave it a kick. He couldn’t risk Steve getting pneumonia on him. That would cost way more than the heat would. “Look at me, Buck!” Steve grabbed his friend by the arm. Bucky spun around, and looked at Steve. So many feelings rushed through him. Feelings he’s never felt for anyone or anything. That overwhelming urge to lean down and kiss the blond on the mouth surged through him, but instead of acting on it he spoke through clenched teeth, “I’ll start dinner.”

Dinner was spaghetti. It was easy and cheap to make if you knew how to make the sauce yourself. It didn’t take long to cook, but it gave Bucky enough time to sort out what he wanted to say to Steve once he finished cooking. Steve sat down at the small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen, head propped up in his hands, glaring at Bucky as the latter set a plate in front him. There was a sizable difference in portions, Steve noticed, and that only led him to become more angry, but he’d save that argument for another time.

“Buck, come on. I’m tired of you acting weird about this. So what? You saw me naked! It’s over.” Steve’s throat was sore, probably from the inevitable cold he had. He did not want to shout.

 

“Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that. I heard something fall, and I thought it was you, and I wasn’t expecting that, and it’s not everyday you see your best friend in his party suit, okay? I’m just a little in shock, I guess. Not your fault. Now please eat before it goes cold.” Steve noticed that Bucky was still not making eye contact with him, instead he was looking at him or down at his food.

 

“You still won’t look at me.” Bucky groaned and looked up from his food that was getting way too cold way too fast. “Thank you--are you looking at my eyebrows? Jesus!” Steve stood up from the table, pushed his food away and paced around the small kitchenette. Bucky was looking now, more in a curious ‘what is he doing’ way. “Okay, Barnes. We’re gonna make it even. Stand up, take your clothes off. I don’t want this to keep going on.”

 

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me. I’m not doin’ that.” Steve pulled Bucky up with all his might and stood with his chest sticking out the way he does when he’s about to start a fight. Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“No, I ain’t. Here, I’m takin’ my clothes off again and it’s gonna be even more weird with me standin’ here buck naked in the kitchen by myself.” Steve took off his white shirt and tossed it onto the floor. He was visibly trembling, but he ignored it and started to pull off his pants when Bucky shouted, “Okay! Alright!....Jesus.” Buck took a deep breath and yanked off his shirt, standing mere feet away from Steve, still trembling. Finally, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and brought the rest of his clothes down to his ankles. He stood there in the cold of the kitchen in front of best friend in all his naked glory. He never felt self-conscious about his body before until now. He felt vulnerable in front of Steve, but Steve drew in every detail of Bucky’s body. His strong thighs, his muscular calves, his chiseled chest, his everything. Steve was an artist after all. He was all about the detail….

“Good, now open your eyes and we’re even.” Bucky reluctantly opened his eyes, stared at Steve and waited for him to say something...anything. Instead he glanced down at Bucky’s crotch and back up to his eyes. “We’re even. That is unless you can’t look at me still?”

 

“No, we’re even. Can I put my clothes back on? It’s fuckin’ freezin’.” Steve laughed at him, pulled his shirt back on and sat down to eat while Bucky got redressed. Dinner went back to it’s usual state, and Bucky and Steve were back to their same old jokes.

After dinner, Steve put on the radio while he and Bucky cleaned the kitchen. Music flooded the room while they moved about the room in way that seemed like it could be a dance if you squinted. The words filled the room, and the boys’ sang along,

 

“I've got you under my skin

I've got you deep in the heart of me

So deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me

I've got you under my skin

I've tried so not to give in

I've said to myself this affair never gonna swing so well

So why should I try to resist, when baby will I know damn well

That I've got you under my skin

I'd sacrifice anything come what might

For the sake of having you near

In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night

And repeats, repeats in my ear

Don't you know little fool, you'll never win

Why not use your mentality, come on step up to reality

But each time I do, just the thought of you

Makes me stop before I begin

'Cause I've got you under my skin…”

Bucky’s always had a knack for singing, but he never did it around anyone but Steve. His baritone voice was melodic and dreamy and Steve loved to hear him sing. He’d never tell Bucky that unless it meant that Bucky would keep singing forever. Suddenly, the radio turned off and Bucky stood before him.

“Well, I’m gonna hit the hay. Gotta be up early again.” Steve nodded, staring into Bucky’s eyes as he stared into Steve’s. There was silence, and Steve’s heart jumped in his chest, and Bucky just cracked a smile. “Just want ya to know I can look at you. Good night.” And with that, the brunette walked to his room and shut the door.

 


	6. Five Minutes More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING*  
> Religious based homophobia. 
> 
> Steve and Bucky go to Church. Steve makes a confession that leaves him in tears. Bucky and Steve make a discovery together.  
> Song is "Five Minutes More" by Frank Sinatra. Once again, I know some of the songs didn't come out until years later, but they fit and they sound nice, so I use them. Thanks. Leave me some comments if you guys like it.

December 1940

“Give me five minutes more, only five minutes more

Let me stay, let me stay in your arms…”

 It had been almost a week since Steve moved in and so much had happened already. He was forced to stay home from work to recover from the beating he took and the cold he caught, Bucky had walked in on him naked and couldn’t look him in the eye again until Steve made him do it, but he had gotten a lot of art finished. Bucky had taken the sketches of the men to Mr. O’Brien, who in turn gave it to the authorities. No word had come back yet, though. There wasn’t a lot to do around the apartment, so Steve had laid on the sofa bed and drew everything in sight. But now it was Sunday morning, Steve was feeling better, and he was dragging Bucky out of bed to go to mass. Bucky’s head was buried under his pillow, and Steve had been shaking him awake for ten minutes already. “Buck, come on. I’m serious. Mass starts in thirty minutes!” 

Bucky groaned from under the pillow, turning slightly to give Steve a nasty look before burying his head again. Steve huffed at his friend. Bucky had worked late at the docks working a double because another fella called out. He knew how much he liked his sleep, but church was more important in Steve’s eyes. They always went to mass together. 

Steve waltzed to the kitchen and filled a cup with water, and came back to his unsuspecting friend. “Fine, you leave me no choice.” Steve pulled the blanket away from his friend, and splashed water over Bucky’s body. The latter jumped up, screaming. 

 

“Jesus Christ, Rogers! I’m UP!” 

 

Steve frowned. “See? This is exactly why you need to go to church. You blasphemous jerk.” Bucky just waved him off, walking to the bathroom to clean up and dry off. “I’m sure God will forgive me. You on the other hand? That was an act of pure jealousy!” Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky cleaned his face and shaved his stubble. When Bucky looked up, he saw Steve through his newly awakened eyes. Steve’s hair was combed meticulously, and his suit was straightened, but it still hung baggily off of his small frame. He wears this every Sunday, but Bucky seemed to be seeing him in a new light. A light of pure adoration. He shook his head and proceeded to get ready while Steve sat on the small chair in the kitchen, sipping his coffee. 

 

The walk to the church took about 15 minutes because of the snow. It had also taken Bucky 15 minutes to get ready, so by the time they reached the church, they snuck in during the Introductory Rites. By the door, Steve splashed Holy water and did his sign of the cross, which Bucky mimicked. They found their seats in the back and sat down in them quietly. Throughout the liturgies, Bucky bounced his knees. He never liked church because he could never sit still for very long. The nuns in school used to scold him for it, so he learned to grin and bear it. Steve was used to it, too, by now. He paid no mind to his friend, and instead he held his rosary in his hands and listened intently to the Eucharist. Father John went on to talk about the most coincidental rule in the Bible: Leviticus 18:22. Coincidental purely to how Steve was feeling.

 

“ The Bible states in Leviticus 18:22 ‘You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination.’ Brooklyn has become a watering ground for homosexuals and their sinful acts. If only these disgusting, misguided homosexuals should come to the church and ask forgiveness from our Lord Jesus Christ, and vow a life of heterosexuality, he may be saved. However, to act upon these vulgar sins, is to go to Hell." Steve became visibly uncomfortable. His stomach turned to knots and his heart beat faster. He felt nauseous and lightheaded. The only person to notice this, of course, was Bucky. Bucky had heard the sermon, too. It made him angry. It made his insides twist and his blood boil. He had looked over to Steve to see how it made him react, and Bucky could tell that Steve was uncomfortable. The brunet moved his hand ever so slightly closer to his left to squeeze Steve’s hand. Steve looked back with fear in his eyes, and squeezed back once before letting go and returning his attention to the sermon.

Finally, it was time for Communion. This was Bucky’s favorite part because he got to stand up and walk for a moment. They stood in line for Communion, Bucky patting his hands on his thighs, and Steve looking extremely lost in his own mind. “Was it just me, or did his sermon make you uncomfortable, too.” Bucky whispered, making Steve snap his head around to give him an expression that said  _ Not here. _ Steve approached the father and mimicked the cross, “In the name of the father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” 

“Amen,” Said Steve, taking the Body of Christ under his tongue. Bucky followed suit and did the same with the Blood of Christ. The church returned to their seats, awaiting the concluding rites patiently, except for Bucky, who was always impatient. At the end, the congregation says in unison, “Thanks be to God” before departing. Bucky hopped up so fast, he almost gave himself whiplash. He was so eager to leave that he couldn’t stand it any longer. Steve, on the other hand, decided he needed to go to Confession. “You can head home, Buck. I’ll catch up with you. I know you’re eager to leave.” 

 

“Are you sure? I made it this long, I’m sure I could wait a little longer.” 

 

“Only if you want. It shouldn’t be too long. Thank you, Buck.” Steve smiled, turned to the Confession booth and entered. It was a small wooden booth within the church, with a red curtain separating the Priest from the confessor. Steve started with a quick prayer before the Priest entered. He had a lot on his mind, obviously. He asked God for answers and for guidance. He wanted real answers. He wanted to know why God would make someone a homosexual only to doom them to Hell. He wanted guidance on if he should go with his heart, or go with what society expects of him.

Suddenly, the door on the other side opened. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, confess your sins to me, my child.”

Steve wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks, and took a deep breath. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one week ago. I have experienced anger and have taken it out on others. I have experienced...lust and have seeked pleasure from myself. I have developed feelings for a person I should not have feelings for, and I am scared. I am in need of guidance, and forgiveness.”

 

“My child, no feelings should be hidden, lest they be sinful or based on desire of the flesh. God will forgive you. He will grant you guidance and forgiveness as you ask of him. Are these feelings related to the ones discussed in the sermon today?”

 

Steve’s eyes began to water. He felt an extremely large lump in his throat as he attempted desperately to speak. His heart raced faster than ever, palms becoming more and more sweaty and his chest aching. He thought of Bucky, and what he said earlier. He sounded as if he didn’t agree with the sermon, either. He wondered how it made him feel. Did he feel like Steve does right now? The Priest asked Steve the question again, and he finally spoke, “Y-yes, father.”

The booth became extremely quiet. Steve thought he was going to pass out. It was too quiet for too long. He was getting ready to leave the booth when the Priest spoke, “I suggest, St--my son, that you rid yourself of these sinful feelings. To love another man is an abomination. You must ask God for his forgiveness, and stop these feelings immediately. Say 10 Hail Mary’s, or risk an eternity in Hell. Your sins are absolved. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…” And then Father John left the booth.

Steve’s heart was tight in his chest. Hot tears spilled down his face. He knew this is what would happen. He knew it, and yet he still confessed. He knew the Priest knew it was him. Now, he won’t be able to show his face in this church again. His panic attack became evident and his chest ached. Steve began to hyperventilate. He knew he needed to get home, but if he left now, the whole church, and Bucky, would know something was up. The worst crying sounds escaped him, and he slapped his hands over his mouth. He hugged his legs to himself the best he could on the bench in the booth. The emotions raced through him so intensely, he began to feel lightheaded. Suddenly, the door opened and Bucky stood in front of him. “Steve? Steve, what’s wrong? Shhh, it’s okay.” Steve looked into his friend’s eyes, terrified of the world knowing why he was crying. “Shit, Steve. Was is something the Priest said?” Steve just nodded, his breathing irregular.

 

“I-I…” Steve stuttered. 

 

“Shhh...Come on, we gotta get ya home. You gotta breathe.” Bucky helped calm Steve down enough to help him breathe. He rubbed his back gently. Bucky couldn’t focus on anything but making sure Steve was okay. He wanted to beat Father John’s ass for making his Steve cry. Holy or not, Bucky didn’t take too kindly with people hurting his friend.

Eventually, Steve was okay enough to stand, but walking would be difficult. Bucky wrapped Steve’s arm around his own shoulders to carry his friend out. “Buck…..are there people out there? I don’t want them to see me….”

“I’ll make something’ up if there are.” Together, they stepped out of the booth. There were no people in sight as far as they could see. They made their way to the church doors when something caught Steve’s eye. Father John was standing a ways away from him, glaring at Steve. His gaze seemed to say “So this is him”, and caused Steve to avert his gaze. “Hurry.” Steve pleaded to Bucky while they made their way out of the church.

* * *

 

Bucky closed the apartment door behind him, and bolted it. Partly because he was worried he’d run back and give that bastard the what for, and partly because he thought the Priest was thinking the same thing. Steve found his way to the sofa and dropped down, covering his head in his hands. His breathing was regular, but he still had so many thoughts running through his mind. He didn’t even know where to begin.The walk home was silent, and that scared Steve. He wasn’t sure what was going on in Bucky’s head. Something told him he wouldn’t be upset, what with the way he reacted after the sermon, but something inside Steve just didn’t sit right with Bucky knowing about how he feels.  _ Steve  _ doesn’t even understand what’s going on in him. 

“Steve?” He took his head out of his hands. Bucky was across the room, staring at him. He appeared to be nervous.  _ Great,  _ Steve thought,  _ He suspects something.  _ “You wanna talk about it?”

 

Steve took a dangerously deep breath. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Bucky waited patiently, watching Steve run things through his head. After a couple of minutes, the blond spoke, “What the Priest said during the sermon, I just….” He sighed. The words were too hard to spit out. His heart was racing again. “I don’t understand the issue with loving someone….ya know, of the same gender. Hear me out,” Steve took the defensive. “I just think that God made us all in his image, and he wouldn’t intentionally create someone doomed to Hell from the start just for being in love.”

Bucky nodded. He walked over to the couch and sat next to his friend. Steve visibly stilled, tensing up. He was more aware of Bucky’s presence than he’s ever been. If Bucky didn’t speak soon, Steve was going to combust.  _ Why isn’t he speaking?  _ Then, finally, “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Steve.”

With that, Steve turned to finally meet eyes with Bucky. Steve’s eyes were confused, and Bucky continued speaking, “I mean, I love girls, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t see nothin’ wrong with love. I dunno. I guess I just don’t think it’s fair. Whoever made those rules must have not known what love was. But Steve, what did he say to you? What got you so shaken up?”

Steve glanced to his lap, where he fiddled with his fingers. He didn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how he even feels other than he’s in love with Bucky, and he can’t tell him that. He had to think of something. “I was confessing as usual. Um, I had to confess my...lust.”  _ God, this was too hard.  _ “Buck, remember what ya just said, okay?...I confessed my thoughts of...well, I guess of lust towards men. Nobody in particular, just...I dunno. ‘M not really sure myself…” The room grew completely silent. No sounds at all. Not even the sounds of breathing, like both men were holding their breaths. 

“So,” Bucky broke the deafening silence, “You think you might be...gay?” 

 

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know, Buck. I think girls are right beautiful, but I also think men are right beautiful, too.”

 

Bucky processed this. Maybe there wasn’t a word for what Steve was feeling, but that was okay. He might be gay, he might not be. It was even funnier to him because he was feeling  _ the exact same way as Steve.  _  “Maybe you’re gay, maybe you’re not. I mean...you’ve kissed a girl or two. How’d you feel?”

 

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Steve covered his face again to hide his shame. “I guess I felt nervous. It was nice. She was cute and her lips were soft, but I ain’t never kissed a guy. I don’t have nothing to compare it to.” 

 

“Well, it ain’t easy finding queer people on the streets, that’s for sure. Too dangerous.” Bucky wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss Steve. Suddenly, that idea didn't seem so bad. There were few times in Bucky’s life where he had bad ideas and went through with them. This is gonna top the list. Without a second thought, he suggested, “I mean I can kiss you just to give you a feel for what’s it like. I ain’t never kissed a man before either.” 

Steve’s heart stopped. It might have actually detached and crawled up to his throat.  _ No, no, no, no. He can’t, but he wants to so bad.  _

Bucky swallowed. He fucked up, he knew he did. He has to fix it somehow. “Steve? Listen, sorry I suggested that. It was stupid, I wasn’t thinking. Just thought I was helpin’ or something. I’m sorry.” He began to stand up when Steve suddenly grabbed his arm. “No, let’s do it. Nothin’ weird, just an experiment, right?”

Bucky slowly lowered himself back down to the sofa. His heart was beating out of his chest and sweat formed at his temples. He was dreaming, right? He gave himself a sly little pinch.  _ Nope, definitely still awake.  _ He had to say something. It was getting strangely quiet again. “Just promise nothin’ gets weird afterwards.” 

 

“Yeah,” Steve was excited. He could feel his whole body tingling before he even touched Bucky. He was also terrified. What if this ruins their friendship? Is it worth it for one little kiss?  _ YES,  _ his heart said.  _ NO,  _ screamed his brain. Well, Steve was always the kind to follow his heart. “So, let’s start, I guess?”

Bucky chuckled. You don’t just ‘start’ a kiss. He wanted this kiss to be perfect. It’s going to be the only time he ever gets to kiss Steve, and it he wants it to be something he remembers. He scoots in closer to Steve, leaning in more towards him. He wondered if Steve could see the sweat pooling at his scalp. Steve averted his eyes, trying to distract himself from his  _ best friend  _ leaning in to kiss him because he might chicken out. Bucky was finally close enough to where he could feel Steve’s breath on his face. His lips were so pink and perfect. Bucky’s stomach danced in excitement. He was shaking harder than ever. He was never this nervous when kissing a dame.  _ Never.  _

Finally, Bucky pressed his lips to Steve’s. Just a touch at first, lips against lips. He was too hesitant to try anything else. They sat there for a moment, revelling in the simple touch of lips. Steve began to pull away, and opened his eyes. His heart was racing and dancing and he felt so happy he could die. But he wanted  _ more. More of Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. _

 

“That bad, huh?” Bucky frowned.

 

“No--uh...I guess it wasn’t that much of a kiss. No offense. Still kinda felt like kissing a dame.”

 

“What? Everyone says I’m a great kisser. Best they ever had. You can’t be gay, I’m  _ the best  _ kisser. Let me do it again. _ ”  _ Bucky hoped to God that Steve wanted a real kiss, not just some silly smooch. 

 

“Well, I mean I guess. Only if you want to…” Steve knew exactly the angle he was playing. He wasn't sure if Bucky would go through with it, but if his pride and reputation as a player was at stake, he’d go again. Bucky grabbed Steve’s face and pulled him. Their lips molded together, and Bucky began to work his mouth against Steve’s. Steve released the breath he was holding out through his nose and sighed. Bucky took this opportunity as a sign to push things further. He ran his tongue across Steve’s bottom lip, and continued moving his lips. Steve was quite inexperienced, but he knew he should be moving his lips, too. They moved together sloppily, but it made tingles shoot down his spine. He was becoming too hot, and he needed to breathe, but he’d be damned if he pulled away and ended this moment. Then again, it felt too long to be just an experimental kiss.   _ Five minutes more... _ Steve thought.

Eventually, Steve pulled back and took a deep breath. He looked at his hands. Hell, he looked anywhere he could other than his best friend’s face. He looked at his pants and noticed he was semi-hard.  _ Shit, don’t notice. Please, God, spare me this.  _

“How was that, then?”

 

Steve laughed. “I say you live up to your reputation.” Steve strategically moved the pillow from behind him to his lap. Bucky huffed. That clearly wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

 

“I mean ‘how was that’ in terms of have you decided if you like men or not.” Bucky wasn’t going to lie. This experiment helped him realize the same thing. He may not be completely  gay, but he was  _ definitely  _ gay for his best friend. 

 

“Oh, yeah. That was way better than kissing a girl.” Steve confessed.

 

“So, it’s decided?”

 

“I suppose so. Thanks, Buck.” Steve smiled. His whole body was on fire. He wanted to shoot through the roof. That was the best thing he had ever felt. His poker face also happened to be the best around because Bucky couldn’t tell how Steve felt at all. 

 

“Well, you know I’m with ya ‘til the end of the line, pal.” Bucky placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder and smiled. “Next up on the agenda, we should find a place that has other gay men. Father did say Brooklyn was a watering ground for homosexuals.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Before that, I say we eat lunch. I’m starving.”

 


	7. That Old Black Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky sneaks out to find a Christmas present for Steve, and finally comes to terms with his feelings for his best friend. Song is "That Old Black Magic" by Frank Sinatra

December 21st, 1940

That Old Black Magic

 

It was a frigid Saturday morning, and Steve was stuck in bed with a cold. Of course he was, he thought. He was going to be sick through Christmas just like last year and the year before that and the year before that. Steve’s whole body ached, and he was freezing. Bucky had wrapped him completely up in all the blankets he owned before he left to work. Steve had begged him not to work, but Bucky argued that it was the holidays and he could use the money, even though he hardly worked on weekends. Steve had huffed when Bucky gave him a hot mug of tea and grabbed his coat, heading out for the day.

What Steve didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t going to work. He was actually going to get Steve a Christmas present. A _real_ present. For a whole year, Bucky had socked away money, so he could afford a real spiffy gift for his best friend. He wandered around town searching for the perfect gift. On the list of things that Steve enjoyed, Bucky had: coffee, art, music, and, just recently, men. It’s not like Bucky could just find another gay man in Brooklyn for Steve, or that he even wanted to. So Bucky continued to wander past shops on Fulton Street and thinking to himself.

It took Bucky nearly an hour in the snow, ducking in and out of stores searching for the right gift before he finally spotted it. Bucky pushed open the door of small hole in the wall shop. A bell attached to the door rang, signalling a clerk that a customer had entered. The shop’s walls were covered in artwork of all kinds. Stuff that dated back to the Renaissance and beyond, but Bucky’s eyes were on an easel displayed in the window. It was such a simple thing, wooden and old, but it was _perfect._ Moments later, a clerk came out, covered in paint.

 

“Hello,” Bucky turned around, smiling. He was greeted by an elderly man in a smock and thick framed glasses.

 

“Good morning, Sir. What can you tell me about this easel?”

 

“Ahhh, an art enthusiast, hmm? Well, it was mine when I was a boy. I had always drawn with paper and ink, but when I turned ten years old, my parents surprised me with this easel and paints. That picture there,” the man pointed to a painting on the wall above the register, “was my first piece.” Bucky approached the painting further. It was a garden in vivid detail. Greens, purples, yellows covering the canvas. It looked like the work of a professional. It made him wonder what Steve could do if he had paint.

 

“How much?”

 

The old man straightened up. “Unfortunately, it is not for sale.” Bucky’s heart dropped and his stomach ached. He would never find another gift like this one. This was _the gift._ It was so unique and pretty and God Steve would love it.  He was so disappointed, so heartbroken. The man could see this. “However, maybe if it was going to a good home, I would consider.”

 

Bucky’s eyes lit up. There’s no way this man was serious. “It would be! I promise. My buddy Steve is an amazing artist. This would be a good way for him to expand his talent. Here’s something he drew.” Bucky reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his leather wallet where he kept Steve’s drawing of him. The shop owner held the paper with a curious look in his face. His expression was almost unreadable until Bucky saw him smile with a curious light shining in his eyes.

 

“This is very good indeed. This young man has serious potential. Has he ever painted?” Bucky shook his head. Paints weren’t exactly cheap, so he stuck to pencil and paper. “Well, young man, I believe you have convinced me. While this easel is very dear to me, it has no purpose collecting dust. I’d like to pass this down to an aspiring artist like I was when I was younger. I’m sure Mr. Steve will do well by it.”

 

Bucky felt like he was going to combust. He felt as if all his wildest dreams had finally come true. Steve was going to love it. He couldn’t believe his luck. He thanked God and he thanked the shop owner. He couldn’t stop smiling. “How much?” The shop owner chuckled.

 

“Young man, it will cost you nothing. This is my gift from one artist to another.” Bucky opened his mouth to object, but the elder man held up his hand to silence him. “Please, it is my pleasure.” Bucky was at a loss for words, so instead he launched himself forward to hug the man. It was the biggest thank you he could offer.

 

“Thank you, Sir. It means so much more than you could know. At least allow me to pay for the paints and the canvases. It’s the least I can do.” The man nodded his head, and took him to pick out the best paints. Upon leaving, Bucky couldn’t believe how little he spend on Steve’s Christmas gift. He had an intense feeling that the old man who owned the store gave him a courteous discount, but who was he to object? Bucky waltzed out of the store, bag in hand, and permanent smile plastered on his face.

* * *

 

Steve must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke up Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table reading The Brooklyn Daily Eagle. He had a wide grin on his face. Steve sat up, placed his feet on the floor and walked over to his friend. “What are you smiling at?”

 

Bucky jumped, rustling the paper in his hands. “Jesus!” He placed the paper on the table and ran a hand through his hair. “I, um, just had a good day. How are you feeling?” Bucky hoped his subject change was subtle enough.

 

“ _Bucky,_ ” Steve warned, glaring him down for blaspheming. “I’m still sick. What do you mean you had a good day? You hate the docks.” Figures. Steve is stubborn and invasive when he thinks Bucky is hiding something.

 

“I just mean it was better than usual. No big deal.” He wasn’t lying. It was a better day than usual, but not because of work, but because he found the most perfect gift _ever_ for Steve.

Steve nodded suspiciously and let out a little “Mmm” in response. He walked further into the small kitchen and saw a small pot of chicken soup on the stove. Good, something warm sounded great. Steve poured himself a bowl and sat down across from his friend. It was quiet between them, Bucky having picked up the newspaper again, and Steve slurping his soup, studying his friend. Bucky turned the page, his eye catching Steve’s glare. He sighed and set the paper down, staring at his best friend. “What?”

 

“Oh, nothing.” Steve feinted interest. Bucky sighed loudly.

 

“Steve…” He warned.

 

“Well, if you’d just tell me why you had such an amazing day, I’d leave you alone.”

 

Another sigh from Bucky. He did this to buy time to make up a plausible story. He couldn’t tell the truth no matter how bad he wanted to. “Boss bought us lunch for comin’ in on a weekend, and I got off early. Why are you bugging me about it?” Bucky attempted to turn the tables, but Steve wasn’t having it.

 

“That’s it? That’s why you’re all giddy like you just had your first kiss?”

 

“It’s the little things in life, Rogers. Now let me read in peace.” Finally, Steve backed off. He made a little “Humph!” and then trotted to the bathroom. Bucky heard the shower turn on, and he released a huge sigh of relief. Steve was very good at prying, and Bucky was worried he wouldn’t be able to think of a believable story fast enough. Not that Steve believed it, mind you. When Bucky was shopping, he had made a deal with the shop owner. He’d leave the easel in the back of the store and pick it up on Christmas Eve. He hid the bad of paints and the canvases in his underwear drawer. He didn’t want to Steve to find anything and ruin the surprise. Bucky knew Steve would be making him something for Christmas because money was tight, and that Steve would throw a fit that Bucky got him such extravagant presents. Bucky didn’t care. He wanted to see Steve’s big blue eyes light up on Christmas morning. That would be Bucky’s present.

Bucky set the paper down and trudged to his room, locking the door behind him. His mind has been racing with thoughts of the kiss. His heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist. He didn’t want to give in to these feelings, he really didn’t. He kept telling himself his body’s reaction was simply because it didn’t know the difference between a female mouth and Steve’s mouth. They’re both very full and soft. Nevertheless, Bucky fell to his bed, curling up under the sheets, and slid his hands into his pants. He was already half hard, but the second he touched himself, he sprung to life. Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in as started stroking himself slowly up and down. He tried to think solely on how good it felt, not about what made him hard in the first place. Bucky thought of a girl--any girl. Ruth. She was a pretty gal. Had a good mouth on her, too. He thought of her that night out in the alley. He thought of her hot mouth wrapped around his hard cock and how good it felt. How he had wrapped his hand in her blonde hair. _Wait, wasn’t she a redhead?_ Ruth was no longer a redheaded dame sucking him off in an alley, but a feisty blonde with the lips of a damn angel. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, hoping, begging Steve to leave his thoughts. He slowed his strokes down, thinking of anyone else but _Steve, Steve, Steve’s lips on his…..Fuck it,_ Bucky thought.He succumbed to his imagination and replaced Ruth with his _best friend_ and let him suck him off in an alley. Bucky stroked himself faster and harder, panting at the idea of his friend sucking his dick.

_“That old black magic has me in its spell_

_That old black magic that you weave so well_

_Icy fingers up_

_And down my spine_

_The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine_

_The same old tingle that i feel_

_Inside_

_When that elevator starts its ride_

_Down and down i go, round and round i go_

_Like a leaf that's_

_Caught in the tide_

_I should stay away but what can i do_

_I hear your name, and i'm aflame_

_Aflame with_

_Such a burning desire_

_That only your kiss can put out the fire”_

 

Suddenly, as Bucky let go and his orgasm washed over him, he heard a knock on his door, but it was too late and Bucky was already moaning loudly through his climax. His heart was racing, partly from his orgasm and partly from embarrassment. “Just a second!” Bucky reached for a dirty shirt to clean himself up. “Fuck,” he hissed as he slid his pajama pants on and unlocked the door. In front of him was a red-faced Steve, whose eyes were level with Bucky’s naked chest. He shifted his gaze to the floor. It was silent between them for a minute before Steve spoke, “I, uh, was just wondering if you wanted to listen to the radio...with me. It’s Abbott and Costello tonight.”

 

“Uh, yeah. Sounds good….” Silence filled up the room again with Bucky in the doorway looking a guilty mess and Steve like a tomato. Their eyes didn’t meet: they both looked anywhere but at each other. Bucky was still coming down from his orgasm and his body was overcome with guilt at the images that pushed him over the edge.

 

Finally, Steve spoke, “Okay.” And he turned to the living room to turn the radio on.

 

“Steve-” Steve paused to look over his shoulder at his friend who was rubbing the back of his head nervously. “I thought you’d be longer in the shower, so I-”

 

“Buck, it’s okay. It’s your apartment. It’s your room, you were in private. I’m sorry I came at such a bad time.”   


“Yeah, me too.” Bucky and Steve made eye contact and they both burst into laughter. The pun was unintentional, but it was still hilarious. Bucky laughed his way to the floor and laid there with tears in his eyes until both of their laughter died down. Steve finally turned the radio on, and took his spot on the couch near Bucky’s head on the floor. Steve listened in silence to the men on the radio while Bucky thought about his guilt. How was he ever going to tell Steve? That was it though: he wasn’t going to tell him. He just needed to lay on the ground and laugh at the comedians and act like it was all fine and dandy. _Even though it wasn’t._ He needed to act like he didn’t just pleasure himself to images of his best friend. Needed to resist the ever growing urge to get up and kiss Steve until they both died from lack of oxygen. Not only that, he wanted to hold Steve all time, tell him how talented and amazing he is. He wanted to take care of him for the rest of their lives. _Damn it, Barnes. You’re head over heels._

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! I'd like to formally apologize for it taking so long to come out. (I was supposed to have this and at least a couple more posted around Christmas...) Life's been super busy and being a theatre major, all I do is rehearse and learn lines and perform, so I have hardly any time for anything. I'm trying to spend some more time writing, and I'm hoping that by the time May comes around, I'll have more free time. Feel free to leave comments, concerns, questions, your first born, what have you! Love you guys!  
> Follow me on tumblr: usagiiiii.tumblr.com


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